


Restoration Day

by SuperKat



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Canon Autistic Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Canon Non-Binary Character, Children of Characters, F/F, Family, Flashbacks, Fluff, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Marriage Proposal, Memories, POV Catra (She-Ra), Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Romance, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:08:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24374062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperKat/pseuds/SuperKat
Summary: “They’re calling it Restoration Day,” Glimmer says, clasping her hands together, “because peace, freedom, and magic were restored to Etheria.”The first party is relatively small.  Yet it grows, as they do, every year.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra), Mermista/Sea Hawk (She-Ra), Perfuma/Scorpia (She-Ra)
Comments: 83
Kudos: 657





	1. Year One

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my lovely wife [caminante](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caminante/pseuds/caminante). May we always be as sappy and in love as these two ridiculous lesbians.

The first party is relatively small.

Well, sort of. Not really.

After that first year, every town across Etheria holds a celebration of some kind. Everyone wants to commemorate the day Horde Prime was purged from existence, a day so important that even She-Ra is compelled to take a short break from bringing magic to the universe.

“They’re calling it Restoration Day,” Glimmer says, clasping her hands together, “because peace, freedom, and magic were restored to Etheria.”

Adora, Glimmer, and Bow receive invitations to parties all over the world, of course. Catra will never admit this to anyone, but she’s relieved when the Princesses choose to have a party of their own.

The four of them (Catra refuses to call them the “Best Friend Squad”) land the spacecraft in Brightmoon about a week before the party starts. They’re having it here at the castle, obviously, being the former seat of the rebellion and all, but Glimmer assures them over and over that it’s going to be calm and low-key, with minimal preparations. She manages to stick to that conviction for a surprisingly long time, and it’s only on the final day that she gets really stressed. Catra, for the most part, stays out of her way.

Catra spends most of the first day making fun of Adora’s bedroom. She teases Adora for going soft, cackling at the waterfall until Adora threatens to push her into it. Adora describes her first night in Brightmoon, how she fought and destroyed a feather bed before humiliating herself in front of the queen. Catra laughs until she can’t breathe while Melog sprawls out on the floor, humming.

They spend most of their first night in Brightmoon making out on Adora’s bed. Melog teleports…somewhere…as they usually do when this happens.

Okay and the second night too. And the third. The bed is huge and ridiculously comfortable. Who could blame them?

Anyway.

Adora spends most of the week traveling, visiting Etherians who are thrilled at the chance to see She-Ra again. Catra chooses to stay behind. It’s weird not having Adora around, but Catra’s not interested in potentially spoiling the festivities with her presence. Melog stays by Catra’s side constantly during the day, which helps.

The other princesses start arriving a few days before the party. There are tears and hugging, and more tears, and eventually something called a Drum Circle. It’s awkward at first, but it gets better. Netossa teaches Catra a game that involves hitting a ball back and forth over a net, and Catra spends a very satisfying afternoon beating all the Princesses at it. (She only feels guilty when it’s Scorpia. She lets Scorpia score a couple points on her, which Perfuma definitely notices. Luckily Scorpia doesn’t.)

She finishes the last game with a leap and a cackle, Sea Hawk sputtering that he was intentionally going easy, just before she spots Adora watching from the castle steps. Catra’s not sure how long Adora has been there, but the blush and the grin on her face suggest that it’s been a while.

Catra sprawls across Adora’s lap so suddenly that Adora yelps.

“Hey Adora.” Purring, Catra wiggles her back and shoulders until she's comfortable. “How was visiting your loyal fans?”

“Three more people named their babies after me.” Adora looks so uncomfortable that Catra can’t help laughing. Adora scowls. “One of them put my ponytail in her mouth. Just…” Adora shudders, “took a handful and chomped right down on it. I am never holding a baby ever again.”

Catra arches her back and laughs with her entire body. Adora pushes her out of her lap, and Catra log-rolls down the steps, still cackling. Gasping for breath, she curls up on herself, wiping away tears.

The party itself isn’t much different from the days preceding it, except that everyone is dressed up and Glimmer isn’t shouting at anyone.

They do something called a “toast” where different people stand up and say sentimental things and then they all touch their cups together. It seems ridiculous, but Bow and Glimmer cry through almost all of them (though at least Glimmer manages not to cry through her own) and even Adora seems touched, so…sure.

Entrapta uses her hair to clink her tiny glass with the glass of every single person at the party, every time. Hordak, Catra notices, is not here. Not that she expected him to be, but still it’s a relief. She’s not sure any of the Princesses other than Entrapta are ready for that. Catra definitely isn’t.

Eventually everyone turns to Adora, smiling expectantly. Adora freezes, and Catra realizes she had not been expecting to speak.

She’s such an idiot.

“Um,” Adora stands up, lifting her glass. There’s a moment of silence as she looks at everyone. “So…” she says, “it’s been a while since I’ve had to do this. Talk to crowds, I mean. Other than...every day for the past week, I guess.” A few people chuckle.

Under the table, Catra slips her hand into Adora’s. Adora smiles without looking down.

“Most of us are thinking back to one year ago, what the world looked like and how much it’s changed since then. But for me,” she closes her eyes. When she opens them, Catra sees a flash of something that is Adora and She-Ra at the same time. “I can’t think one year in the past without thinking back much longer. My world, as you know, used to be very different. Then everything changed, very suddenly and very quickly.” Catra worries, for a moment, about where this is going. “Then it changed again. And again.” Catra relaxes.

“In all that time, and all that change, all that fighting…probably the most valuable thing I learned was that destiny isn’t about one person doing something that someone decided on a thousand years ago. It’s about choices. It’s about people. Every single person, and their choices, matter.

“Etheria is what it is today because of all of you, and the choices you made. When we celebrate the defeat of Horde Prime, we are celebrating our part in making it happen. We are celebrating each other. And, I know I’ve said this a lot, but,” Adora’s eyes brim with tears. “Thank you. Thank you all.”

They clink glasses one more time, and apparently by some unspoken rule they are done, because everyone goes back to talking and eating. Adora and Catra share a small smile.

“Not bad, huh?” says Adora under her breath.

“Not bad at all, Princess,” Catra grins. “You had a few people in tears there. I didn’t know you had it in you.” Grinning, she leans over to whisper in Adora’s ear. “It was actually pretty hot.”

She expects Adora to blush or sputter, but instead Adora grins and whispers, “Not as hot as you spiking the ball at Sea Hawk. You should definitely do that more often.” And...now Catra is blushing. Only a little, though. Adora throws her head back and laughs.

Later, the servants set up a massive campfire outside (Glimmer, being Glimmer, wanted to commemorate all the time they spent camping out during the rebellion). Catra sits on the ground, stroking Melog’s head as Adora wraps an arm around her shoulders. They watch the group in silence for a long time.

Bow and Sea Hawk sing something about friendship and adventure. Mermista, a few feet away, sighs loudly even though she’s obviously enjoying it. On the other side of the campfire, Glimmer, King Micah and Castaspella are engaged in an animated conversation about something that, judging from their gestures, probably has to do with magic. The sight of three sorcerers talking like that pulls at something in Catra’s chest and she looks away as Melog rubs her leg with their face.

Scorpia joins in the singing, tentative at first but with a building confidence. Her voice is…actually really good. There is so much that Catra doesn’t know about her.

It’s nothing like the campfires they used to have in the Horde, with their rations and watch schedules and tense silences. This is warm and relaxing. Catra rests her head on Adora’s shoulder, closing her eyes and purring as Adora’s fingers stroke her cheek.

When Catra opens her eyes, the fire has turned to embers and small prickles of flame. Bow and Frosta are roasting something puffy and white on long sticks. Frosta groans as hers catches fire. She waves it around for a moment before she clenches her fist, encasing it in a block of ice.

“Maybe it works as a popsicle?” Scorpia suggests, after Frosta spends a good minute just staring at what she’s done. Frosta licks her ice creation and grimaces in disgust. Catra laughs quietly, feeling Adora shift under her.

“You’re awake,” Adora says, planting a small kiss on Catra’s head. Catra is reminded of the day - exactly one year ago - when they fell asleep in each other’s arms in a meadow full of the weirdest flowers Catra had ever seen. Technically, Catra woke up first, but after a few minutes of touching Adora’s face thinking _this is really happening_ , she fell back asleep, only to find Adora giving her a very similar look when she woke up again.

“Hey Adora,” she replies, as she had then. Adora presses their foreheads together. Catra purrs, something she’s done more of in the past year then she did in her entire life before.

Bow lifts the stick from the fire to inspect the now-brownish thing at the tip. He seems satisfied with it, whatever it is. Entrapta approaches the fire with something that looks like a rake, with tiny white lumps impaled on all the prongs.

“What are those?”

“I have no idea,” Adora says. “But they must be really good. Everyone keeps saying they want some more.”

They watch for several minutes longer, trying to figure out what those things are and what they’re supposed to do with them. The process looks oddly complicated. Catra does not understand why these people, who spent months at a time eating whatever they could cook over a campfire, now choose to do it again even though they are on the grounds of a literal castle.

Eventually Adora asks Bow and Glimmer to show her what to do, and Catra joins in more out of curiosity than anything. As she expected, it’s not really worth the trouble. Catra has already learned the hard way that she can’t eat chocolate (she takes a piece anyway and slips it to Adora when no one is looking), so hers is probably not as good as the others’ to begin with. The marsh-mellow (Etherians have the weirdest names for things) takes way too long to cook and the end result is nearly impossible to eat.

“Nope,” says Catra, her mouth full of sweet, sticky, crumbly stuff. “Not worth it.” Adora takes one look at Catra’s face and nearly chokes with laughter. Catra reddens and spends the next ten minutes scrubbing the fine layer of fur around her mouth, while Adora roasts three marsh-mellows at the same time.

It’s nice, that first year; calm and relaxing and personal and small. Most of the princesses leave in the morning, and the four of them embark on the ship not long after, chatting about who has grown and who has changed and who really, really hasn’t. By the time Etheria has disappeared from sight, Catra, lacing her fingers with Adora’s, is already looking forward to next year.


	2. Year Two

The second year is quite a bit bigger than the first. 

The four of them arrive a month in advance this time, having brought as much magic back to the Universe as they possibly can. The citizens of Bright Moon are thrilled to learn that She-Ra and Queen Glimmer are returning to Etheria for good, and it seems like every Princess (and “Princess-adjacent” as Bow calls them) wants to attend the Restoration Day party this year.

Catra has a small identity crisis their first night back on Etheria, when it really hits her that Adora is planning to live in the castle indefinitely. Adora refers to Bright Moon as “home” several times and makes jokes about not knowing what to do with herself without missions and war meetings. Melog, sensing Catra’s mounting discomfort, stays by Catra’s side through dinner and follows her to the bedroom when she gets overwhelmed.

Adora finds her sitting on the balcony railing, knees pulled to her chest, her back to the castle’s outer wall. They talk, of course. They’re good at that now. It’s hard and it’s scary and there’s always that fear that she’ll get too angry and ruin everything, but they manage. It turns out that Adora’s scared too, that her jokes about not knowing what to do with herself were not jokes.

“I mean,” Adora runs a hand through her hair, “Save Etheria: Check. Defeat the Horde: Check. Bring magic to the Universe: Check. So what’s next? Bow has his tech stuff, Glimmer has… _politics,_ ” Adora cringes as if she’s just eaten something gross, “and I…well the world doesn’t need She-Ra anymore.” Her shoulders slump. “The world doesn’t need _me._ ”

“Good,” Catra says. Adora looks startled. “You’ve given enough to the world. What do _you_ want?” She tries to ask it lightly, knowing how hard it is for Adora to let herself want things, or worse, let herself have things that she wants. Even so, Adora sighs. 

Catra reaches for her hand, letting their fingers intertwine. Adora is silent for a moment.

“You,” she says at last, her voice small. “I just want you.” 

Catra turns away, blinking against the stinging sensation in her eyes. She has done more happy-crying in the past two years than she did in her entire life before. In fact, she doesn't remember happy-crying even once before Adora came back into her life. She takes a slow, shaky breath, and Adora squeezes her hand. 

“Well.” Catra turns back, grinning and wiping her eyes. “Check. So…I guess the next question is: what do _we_ want?”

They look at each other for a moment, dissolving into giggles when it becomes obvious that neither of them has a clue. Catra dangles her feet over the railing as Adora wraps her arms around her shoulders. Catra, purring, relaxes into her touch.

Catra remembers one of her first nights on Mara’s ship, the scar from the chip still fresh on the back of her neck. She and Adora stayed up most of the night talking, serious conversations and funny stories and playful teasing. It was hard and terrifying, tentative at first. Everything felt so familiar and yet so fragile. 

Catra doesn’t remember most of what they said, but she knows they laughed together a couple times, cried together a few times, and did both together at least once. Her clearest memory of that night is punching Adora lightly in the shoulder and watching her laugh, realizing _we’re going to be okay_ _._

They end up making out on the balcony for a long time. 

The castle at Bright Moon is too sparkly, too colorful, too…princessy for Catra to imagine calling it home. She feels out of place, like at any moment a guard is going to demand to know what she’s doing here. Yet, she entertains the concept and it actually starts to grow on her. She studies the murals, pokes at hanging crystals when no one is looking (they swing in a way that is very satisfying to watch), and climbs onto the spires to watch the moons set. 

She attends court one day, expecting to make faces at Glimmer from the edge of the room, but finds herself impressed with Glimmer’s ability to handle her deceptively taxing job. King Micah, still the Regent, stays nearby, but he’s mostly silent. Catra spends longer than expected watching Glimmer listen to the petty disputes with a surprising amount of patience, and take on the more complicated ones with delicate sensitivity.

“If I didn’t know better,” Catra says later, bursting into the near-empty council chamber so suddenly that Glimmer gasps and drops a scroll. Melog sniffs it. “I’d think you were an actual Queen up there.”

Glimmer rests her head on the table. “That’s good,” her voice is muffled and exhausted. “Because that means I’m probably fooling most of the court.”

Catra sits in an empty chair, scanning through the piles of papers and scrolls.

“I just,” Glimmer sits up. Catra can see bags under her eyes. “I feel like I’m doing everything wrong. I ask my dad for help so often, and he’s been great but he’s going to retire in a few months and I just want to let him relax, you know? I feel like I should have a handle on this by now and I really, _really don’t._ ”

This pulls at some very specific memories. “I get it,” Catra says. “I really do.” Silence for a moment. “How about this: pick something that you’re struggling with, and talk it out. To me.” Glimmer raises her eyebrows, and Catra shrugs. “I’m not saying I have any answers, but if it will help you to talk it out, do it.”

They hold each other’s gaze for a moment. 

“If someone had told me a few years ago that I’d be doing this,” Glimmer digs through the pile for a particular scroll. “With you? I’d never have believed them. I probably would’ve _attacked_ them.” 

Catra laughs. “Mutual, Sparkles. Mutual.”

It goes…actually it goes really well. They end up talking through a bunch of things, as Melog curls up on an empty chair and sleeps. Catra has to reign in her pessimism and misanthropy at times, but the conversation is surprisingly productive. They don’t stop until Glimmer is so tired that she literally tries to read a scroll upside down. Catra smirks and they pack up scrolls and papers together.

“You better watch out,” Glimmer grins. “Now that I know how helpful this is, I may ask you to do it again.”

“You can, you know,” Catra hands her one final sheaf of papers, frowning when Glimmer studies her. “What?”

“Thank you for the offer,” says Glimmer, “but be warned: once my dad retires, I’ll officially have an advisor position open.”

Oh. Catra’s eyes grow wide. Melog wakes up with a start. Catra and Glimmer look at each other, and the silence between them stretches, until eventually Catra twitches one ear and looks up.

“What is it?” Glimmer follows her gaze. “Do you hear something?”

“Yes,” Catra smirks. “It’s the sound of you from three years ago exploding in an angry puff of glitter.”

Glimmer laughs. 

She tells Adora later, of course, cackling at the look of horror and disgust on her face.

“You’re telling me you did…politics?” Adora hugs a pillow to her chest. “On _purpose_?” Catra laughs. “Are you going to…you know, accept the job? If she offers it?”

“I don’t know,” Catra snaps more sharply than intended. Melog hums. “Sorry.” Catra takes a slow breath. “I just…that’s a really big question.”

Adora takes her shoulders. “Whatever you do, I support you. If this is what you want, we’ll stay. If you want to go, we’ll go. I’m with you whatever you choose, whenever you choose it.” She gives Catra a gentle kiss, then smirks. “I’m just saying: better you than me.”

The weeks pass surprisingly quickly, and soon preparations for the second Restoration Day celebration are underway. 

Bow’s dads arrive a few days before the party. Catra doesn’t have to be told who they are; she takes one look at them approaching the castle and thinks _yep._ After half an hour with them, she feels like she has a deeper understanding of Bow than she’s ever had. They keep asking Adora to solve translation disputes, and Lance’s level of enthusiasm for everything they talk about is exhausting and hilarious at the same time. 

The puns are a bit much though. 

Lance and George don’t seem to recognize Catra as the one who once kidnapped their son and another time threw him off a cliff, which Bow confirms later.

“Are you kidding?” he squeak-whispers. “If I told them that _either_ of those things happened to me, they would freak out.”

The princesses trickle in gradually over the next few days, as they did last year. Frosta is taller than Catra now, something she shows off with a mischievous and self-satisfied smirk. 

“Whatever,” Catra shrugs. “I can probably still beat you at netball.”

Obviously they have to set up a game _immediately_ after that. Frosta uses her powers _way_ more than she had last year, which Catra takes as permission to abandon the rules entirely. She uses her claws to shatter the ball more than once, spends a lot of time balancing on top of the net, and even uses Frosta’s shoulders as a springboard once. The game descends into chaos and ends with both of them on the ground surrounded by splinters of ice, laughing until Catra’s sides hurt. Catra doesn’t know exactly what the score is, but she’s pretty sure she won.

Wrong Hordak accompanies Entrapta to the party this year. He is…very dressed up, even when he first arrives. Looking at him for too long is unnerving. 

Catra gets to meet Huntara in person this year, and…wow. Oh wow. She is…wow. (Adora catches her staring and whispers, “Right?!”) Huntara is the first person to officially beat Catra at Netball, which is fine because after that they team up and just. Obliterate. Everyone. 

Officially, Adora spends most of the afternoon greeting new arrivals with Glimmer. Unofficially, she spends pretty much all of it watching Catra play. Catra makes sure to wink at her at every possible opportunity.

They have a _really_ good time together that night. Just saying.

The weather is so nice the day of the party that they hold the whole thing outside, even dinner. They serve something called “fish cakes,” which, although nothing like actual cakes, are definitely the most amazing thing Catra has ever eaten. She looks around, disappointed to see that the platter is already empty. She sighs, shoulders slumping, but when she looks back at her plate, another fish cake has appeared on it. She looks at Adora, who is smiling, her own plate empty.

“You are the best thing that ever happened to me,” Catra says.

Adora kisses her forehead (they ignore the chorus of “aww”s around them). “I know.”

There are way too many people gathered around the campfire for Catra’s liking, so she and Melog find a patch of bare grass and lay down to stargaze. 

Wrong Hordak, of all people, joins them, holding his massive cape in one hand so he can stretch out on the grass. It’s still unnerving, seeing him here. She’d gotten used to his presence on the ship because he and True Hordak are so different, but the sight of him still dredges up old memories and feelings. Melog hums against her leg and she lets herself relax.

“It is fascinating to me,” Wrong Hordak says, “that Etherians have spent their whole lives without stars. Meanwhile I spent years living among them, and I never once thought to appreciate how beautiful they are.” 

“I think about it a lot,” Catra says, folding her arms behind her head. “Who I was back then. It feels like another life, sometimes.”

“In many ways,” Wrong Hordak tilts his head to one side. “It was.”

He’s so different now, from the clone who burst into loud tears, who spent a day in an occupied village learning how to wink. He’s solid and centered and sure of himself. 

“Do you ever wish you could go back and erase it?” Catra asks.

Wrong Hordak thinks for a moment. “No.” Catra’s ears perk up. “That life, though deeply regrettable, is an inextricable part of me. If I could undo the terrible things that happened as a result of my actions, I would, but I cannot change the person I was and still expect to be who I am now. And my life now...I would not change it for anything.”

Catra smiles as Melog starts to purr. 

Entrapta joins them later, monologuing about stars and asteroids, where she’s been and what she’s seen up close. She grills Catra about where she and the others went in their travels; Catra answers as best she can, even though she knows her information isn’t nearly precise enough to satisfy Entrapta. 

Entrapta’s presence is, as usual, a lot. With her the choices are near-complete silence or a lecture that is loud and long and fast-paced. Once upon a time it would have frustrated Catra; figuring out how to get the relevant information out of Entrapta in an efficient way was one of her first real challenges as Force Captain (aside from all the fighting of course). She could have been more patient. She _should_ have been more patient.

Entrapta pauses in her long and enthusiastic description of floating in ‘the crushing void of space’ to ask, “Is this too much?” Catra can’t help her look of surprise, though Entrapta doesn’t seem to notice it.

“No,” Catra says, thinking back to all the times she would have answered ‘yes,’ all the times she’d have _killed_ to hear Entrapta filter herself like that. Catra was so awful to her. It hurts to think Entrapta ever saw her as a friend. “Keep going.”

Entrapta does. 

Adora finds them later, laying down beside Catra and letting their fingers intertwine. It’s Adora who points out that they are four former Horde soldiers stargazing at a princess party celebrating the defeat of the Horde. Catra laughs and is briefly tempted to suggest that they call Scorpia over, but she stops herself at the last minute. She is not ready for that. Not yet.

“Hey,” Adora says, squeezing Catra’s hand as Melog's ears droop. “Are you okay?”

Catra gives her a small smile. Adora’s hair is down, splayed out around her on the ground like an ancient queen in one of the murals. For a moment, Catra is struck mute by how beautiful she is. 

Her voice, when she finds it, is soft and hoarse. “Yeah.” 

Adora’s lips twist in a wry grin. “Sap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to [Caminante](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caminante/pseuds/caminante) for helping me figure out the final scene.


	3. Year Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: dissociation, panic attack. Remember Catra in Season 3 right after she learned where Shadow Weaver was? That.

The third year is full of milestones. 

At Glimmer’s suggestion, citizens of Bright Moon are invited to join the Restoration Day festivities at the castle. The grounds open at noon, rapidly filling with music and dancing and tables covered with brightly-colored food. 

Catra spends the first part of the day watching the near-steady stream of villagers who want to talk to She-Ra. Adora is used to this, to the point where she even seems to enjoy herself at times. Catra particularly likes the small children who have attempted to dress up like She-Ra, showing off their outfits before spending most of the afternoon pretending to fight each other with sticks and wooden swords. 

People want to talk to Catra too, though luckily not as the Queen’s Advisor. Catra has been trying to keep a low profile in that respect, partially because it’s easier to get reliable information from people who underestimate her and partially because she’s not sure how the public will react to the former leader of the Horde in such a prominent position. No, Catra has worked her way into the hearts of Etherians simply by being She-Ra’s True Love.

By now, everyone knows the story of how Catra and Adora’s kiss brought She-Ra back from the brink of death. People tell stories about it. There’s artwork. Someone published a poem about it. There’s a _play_. Even today, Catra stays away from the pantomimers, due to the very real possibility that one of them will attempt to act out what happened at the Heart of Etheria. 

As embarrassing as it is to have one of the most intimate and pivotal moments of her life on public display, it’s better than Catra’s other options. So she smiles and greets everyone with as much grace and dignity as she can muster under the circumstances. 

Sea Hawk, as usual, spends most of the day singing shanties to anyone who will listen. Mermista seems embarrassed, but is somehow always nearby. Catra stays away from her; out of all the princesses, Mermista is the only one who has not forgiven her and probably never will. 

Frosta and some children build snow sculptures on one corner of the lawn. In another corner, Spinerella and Netossa lead a series of netball matches. Glimmer makes a brief appearance, Bow at her side, and Perfuma spends most of the day making flower-chains to the specifications of anyone who wants one. Scorpia is already wearing three. She waves a flower-laden pincer in Catra’s direction, looking nervous for some reason, but Catra is pulled away by squealing villagers before she can ask what’s wrong. 

Eventually, Catra and Adora manage to escape and take a short walk. It’s nice to have the chance to celebrate in private. After all, today is - on top of everything else - their anniversary. They hold hands and walk along the banks of the river where they had their first real battle all those years ago.

The late afternoon sunlight catches Adora’s hair, and for a moment Catra forgets to breathe. Adora notices her staring and grins. “What?”

“I realized something.” Catra blushes, looking away. “We’ve been dating for three years.” In her peripheral vision, she sees Adora nod. “That’s longer than we were…” she swallows, “longer than we were enemies.”

Adora doesn’t reply right away. Worried she’s said something wrong, Catra looks back to find her girlfriend’s eyes brimming with tears. They share a smile: the smile that holds a thousand things they share that no one else in the universe knows about; the smile that contains a universe of their own, a lifetime of things that are _theirs_.

And now Catra is crying too. Adora laughs, pulling her into a long kiss. “I love you,” she whispers.

In the past three years, Catra has heard that phrase more times than she had in her entire life before. More tears spill, mingling on their cheeks as they deepen the kiss.

They return to the party eventually, holding hands and panting and ever-so-slightly disheveled. Most of the villagers have gone home, and servants are setting up chairs and tables for dinner. 

Bow and Swift Wind are singing with Sea Hawk now, Mermista nowhere to be seen. Glimmer is laughing and Perfuma is clapping. Scorpia, standing nearby, still looks nervous, which is strange. She usually loves these parties. 

Catra and Adora team up to play a few rounds of netball, first against Spinerella and Netossa, then against a pair of princesses whose names Catra doesn’t know. The first match is fiercely competitive (they only win by a little); the second is not (they win by a lot). Catra is considering challenging Frosta to a rematch, when Adora takes her arm and whispers, “Look.”

On the other side of the lawn, Scorpia is approaching Perfuma, one arm behind her back and a look of gentle determination on her face. She takes Perfuma’s hand (Catra will never stop wondering how she doesn’t accidentally chop Perfuma’s fingers off) and smiles, blushing. Although Sea Hawk and Swift Wind keep singing, Bow seems to have noticed that something is happening. 

“I never really believed,” Catra hears Scorpia say, though it’s barely audible from here, “that I was anything special.” She says something else that Catra doesn’t catch because the shanty hits a particularly high note. “You taught me that I can do anything I set my mind to. You made me believe in myself.” Catra’s chest clenches and she looks away.

“What’s she saying?” Adora asks. 

Before Catra can reply, Scorpia gets down on one knee, holding up a small wooden box. Adora gasps. The shanty stops abruptly, replaced by an awed silence. Scorpia looks around, terrified as if she had not expected this to happen, while Perfuma claps her hands over her mouth.

“Ha,” Netossa whispers, a few feet behind Catra. “I told you. I _told_ you.”

“Perfuma,” Scorpia says, “will you marry me?”

For a moment, no one moves. Then Perfuma starts to bounce, flapping her hands in front of her face and letting out a series of wordless squeals. To everyone’s surprise, she turns away.

“Oh my goodness!” Perfuma half runs, half bounces to a canvas bag on the ground a few feet away. Scorpia’s smile is even more nervous, now. “Oh my goodness!” Perfuma’s squeal is so high-pitched that Catra is surprised that anyone other than her can hear it. “Oh my goodness!” Perfuma roots through the bag, still bouncing on her heels.

“What is she doing?” Netossa says. Adora shrugs, but Catra figures it out a second before it happens.

Just as the smile starts to fade from Scorpia’s face, Perfuma pulls out a small wooden box of her own. Scorpia cries out and collapses into laughter. The crowd erupts as Perfuma and Scorpia embrace, both of them laughing and crying at the same time. 

“They proposed to each other!” Bow cries, tears streaming down his face. Swift Wind whinnies, rearing up on his hind legs and spreading his wings behind the happy couple like a banner. 

Everyone except Catra immediately rushes to congratulate them. Catra waits, planning to seek them out later when there isn’t a churning mess of crying princesses in the way.

Facing Scorpia is still uncomfortable sometimes. Catra has apologized, of course, often and profusely, but Scorpia doesn’t like talking about their past, leaving them with a facade of friendship so thin and fragile that it seems ready to collapse at any moment. Unlike with Adora, Catra and Scorpia didn’t have anything good to return to, so any attempt at a healthy friendship would be something entirely new. So Catra waits, a small smile on her face and one hand stroking Melog’s head.

Dinner starts late and lasts for an unusually long time, mostly because people are so busy congratulating Scorpia and Perfuma and making long, improvised toasts to their new engagement. Catra makes eye-contact with Perfuma a few times and they smile at each other, but on the rare occasion that she meets Scorpia’s gaze, Scorpia’s smile looks flimsy and nervous. Catra’s chest tightens with a series of unsavory theories.

Sometime after dinner, Catra manages to find Scorpia and Perfuma without a mass of people around them. She congratulates them, her voice timid but genuine, and they show her the small wooden boxes.

“It’s an Etherian tradition,” Scorpia says in response to Catra’s look of confusion. “When a couple gets married, they exchange accessories or pieces of clothing.” Catra hasn’t heard this before, but it makes sense. It explains Netossa and Spinerella’s necklaces, for one thing. 

The box that Scorpia is holding contains a red jewel earring, which Catra recognizes from Princess Prom. The fact that Scorpia still has it after all this time sends something clenching in Catra’s insides. 

“I was wearing this that night in the Enchanted Grotto,” Scorpia says. Catra has heard that story before, in particular the part where Scorpia, as part of her undercover mission, got up on stage and belted “ _I'_ _M A SPY!_ ” to the entire room. No one else seems to have noticed the irony, so Catra has never brought it up. 

“Which is another reason we’re so perfect for each other!” Perfuma opens the box she’s been carrying. Inside is a red flower made of some kind of fabric, attached to a black ribbon. “This was on the hat I was wearing that same night!”

Okay, that’s…actually really cute. Catra laughs and pretty soon she’s being swept into a group hug, because of course she is. There’s another round of laughter and for a moment, Catra lets herself believe that maybe everything is going to be okay between them.

“Now I get why you looked so nervous,” Catra says, a statement she will regret for months, starting in the moment when Scorpia looks away, cringing. Catra’s heart pounds.

“About that,” says Scorpia. “Something...happened...that you should know about.” Melog tenses at Catra’s side. “I was going to wait until tomorrow to tell you - it’s kind of a big deal and I didn’t want to interrupt the party or anything - but I guess I have to tell you now that I’ve brought it up. It would be way worse to make you wait. I hate it when people are all: ‘I have something to tell you’ and then don’t tell you for a long time.” Scorpia trails off when Perfuma rests a hand on her arm. 

“I’m going to get us some drinks,” Perfuma says. To Catra, she asks, “Do you want anything?” Catra shakes her head, unable to take her eyes off Scorpia. Her fingers graze the crown of Melog’s head.

“I,” Scorpia says after Perfuma walks away. “I’ve been rebuilding my kingdom - gosh, that still sounds weird to say. Anyway, there are towns - well, ‘remnants’ is probably more accurate - some of them are pretty intact but others…” Scorpia laughs nervously. 

Once upon a time, Catra would have snapped at her to get to the point. She has to resist the urge to do the same thing now. Instead, she rests her fingers on Melog’s head and waits, keeping her expression impassive.

Scorpia swallows, fiddling with the box in her hands. “Anway, we’ve been going through them as sort of a project.” Catra doesn’t ask who ‘we’ means. “You know...salvaging what we can and…figuring out what to do with the rest. We’re planning to make a sort of monument to…okay, I’m getting off the subject.” Scorpia laughs nervously. “You know me.” She takes a deep breath. Catra waits. 

“I found something in one of the empty houses,” Scorpia says. “The town...it was pretty much destroyed by the Horde a long time ago. Well, I say ‘destroyed’ - the buildings were surprisingly intact, but no one’s lived there for...I don’t know how long. In one of the houses, I found some...things.” Scorpia sighs, running a claw over her hair to smooth it down. She looks everywhere except at Catra. 

“There was a...a journal. And an old photo album. I found them in a room with toys and...other things, like things for- for a child? A small child. I looked at some of the photographs, and…” Scorpia meets her gaze for the first time since she started talking, which floods Catra’s system with adrenaline. “They’re pictures of you.”

The world stops.

“You’re...sure.” Catra says. It is not a question. If Scorpia turns out to be wrong, Catra does not know if their friendship could be salvaged.

Scorpia’s voice is low and breathless, her eyes sad. “Yeah. The photos are…it’s pretty obvious. Yeah.” 

Silence for a moment. Then, the world breaks. 

This happens to her sometimes, though it hasn’t in a while. Catra’s vision goes dark at the edges, and all she can hear is the pounding of her heart, the pulsing of her blood in her temples. She’s not even sure she’s breathing until she hears herself ask, “What did you do with them?”

“They’re safe,” she hears Scorpia say, distantly as though through a long tunnel. “I packed them in a lockbox and brought them here. I can leave them with you or take them back to my kingdom, whatever you…”

The silence swallows her voice, and the world fades. Catra is distantly aware of more voices, something vibrating against her palm, the sound of her own breath coming harsh and quick, a whisper of wind, someone’s hand on her arm. She’s walking somewhere, she notices, the dull murmur of voices now behind her. Melog is gripping the cuff of her sleeve in their teeth, guiding her forward. 

More voices. Adora is in front of her, crouching, smiling, tears in her eyes. Catra realizes she’s sitting when she notices Melog sprawled across her lap, their weight pinning her to the ground. With a detached curiosity, Catra wonders how long Adora has been holding her hands. A gust of wind overtakes her and she realizes her cheeks are wet.

“Hey,” Adora is saying, her voice trembling. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re okay.”

“They abandoned me,” someone is saying with Catra’s mouth. “Why would they keep pictures of me? If they were just going to...” Her air runs out. She tries to take another breath but misses.

Tears spill down Adora’s cheeks. Catra’s hands are shaking so hard that even Adora’s grip can’t still them. _Don’t say it_ , Catra thinks, her breath tangling up in her throat. _Don’t say it. Not yet._

“Can I hug you?” Adora whispers. Catra, in what feels like her first conscious move, nods. Adora pulls her into a tight embrace and they stay where they are for a long time.

“I am so sorry,” Scorpia tells her later. Catra isn’t sure how much time has passed, but she’s back in her own body and her eyes are stinging but dry. Melog is still draped across her lap, Adora supporting her from behind. Together they keep her steady. Far away, Catra can hear the crackling sounds of a campfire, the murmur of voices and laughter.

Scorpia’s eyes are brimming with tears. It looks wrong. This is wrong. “I should have waited until tomorrow to tell you. I’m so sorry.” 

Catra is shaking her head. “Don’t apologize.” Her voice is hoarse and whispery. “I’m glad you told me.” She’s not sure if it’s true, but it’ll make Scorpia feel better. The last thing she wants to do is hurt Scorpia any more than she already has. Everything about this is wrong. She closes her eyes and listens to the sound of Adora’s heartbeat, the steady rise and fall of her chest against Catra’s back.

“Okay,” Scorpia says. “But if there’s anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’m here, okay?” Catra nods and Scorpia stands up to leave.

“How many people know?” Catra says once Scorpia is gone. Adora holds her more tightly.

“Me,” Adora says. “Scorpia, obviously, and Perfuma. Bow and Glimmer know something happened but I didn’t tell them what.”

“I’m not ready,” Catra says.

“Okay,” Adora’s voice is steady, the way she gets before a battle or a mission. “I’ll put the lockbox in a safe place, and you can just tell me when you’re ready to open it, okay?” 

Catra nods.

By the time she’s well enough to rejoin the party, the campfire has died down to embers and several people have gone to bed or straight-up fallen asleep on the lawn. Catra sits on a bench, Adora and Melog practically attached to her on either side. She rests her head on Adora’s shoulder. 

“My parents exchanged earrings,” Glimmer is saying to someone. “Bow’s dads are my favorite, though. Tell them what Lance and George exchanged.”

Catra can hear Bow’s sigh clearly enough to picture the look of exasperation on his face. “Socks. They traded their favorite socks.”

Laughter. Catra’s not sure she understands the joke, but the sound of it relaxes her. Eventually the crackling embers and the murmur of tired conversation lull her to sleep. She wakes up much later, in bed, with Adora lying next to her. 

Catra lays still for a while, watching Adora sleep, remembering their first nights together on Mara’s ship after the war. She and Adora would fold into each other, interlocking like puzzle pieces. It was everything they needed, soft and tranquil and healing, Adora’s face in Catra’s hair and Catra’s tail draped over Adora’s shin. The hum of the ship would lull them to sleep, and for the first time, Catra allowed herself to believe she could have peace. 

These are the things that the poems and plays can’t capture: Adora’s face crinkling as she shifts in her sleep; Catra attempting to disentangle herself from the sheets without waking her, wondering who carried her up the stairs and more than a little bit worried it was She-Ra; undressing in darkness, wondering what she will give to Adora someday, when the time comes; pushing away thoughts of keys and lockboxes as she slips back under the covers; one arm reaching up instinctively to block Adora’s sleep-punch. These things are theirs and theirs alone _._

She nestles into Adora and lets their nearness relax her, lulling her back into a long, peaceful sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Scorfuma double proposal was inspired by [this real-life video. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=otNafgZdOUY)
> 
> The Etherian tradition of item-swapping was described by [one of the character designers on the show. ](https://raegeii.tumblr.com/post/618934551160520704/i-loooooved-all-of-the-outfits-in-s5-what-was)
> 
> The flashback was inspired by [this amazing piece of art from Noelle Stevenson herself. ](https://twitter.com/Gingerhazing/status/1264350073158156288)


	4. Year Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for alcohol consumption, but everyone is of legal age. Also a character has a mild anxiety spiral.

The fourth year is an all-day affair.

Townspeople start arriving in the morning, partiers and musicians, storytellers and dancers, families and couples and pets and groups of giggling children. Getting dressed in the morning, Catra hears the soft murmur of laughter and chatter drifting up from the castle grounds. 

She pauses, as she often does these days, in front of a framed picture in the corner of their bedroom. A young couple smiles with fond exasperation at a small kitten attempting to wriggle out of their arms. The kitten is tiny, her bushy gray hair almost bigger than she is. Her eyes are not visible from this angle, but other pictures from the same book make it clear that she inherited her eye colors from each of her parents: one soft teal, the other gold. 

How the kitten in this picture became the small child found in a box after a raid, Catra will probably never know. It grates at her sometimes when she tries to reconcile the loving family in this picture with the narrative that has shaped her life. 

Melog lets out a soft mewl, lowering their head, ears drooping. Catra closes her eyes and takes a slow, deep breath through her nose. She holds it for a moment, listening to the morning breeze and the rising murmur of voices on the lawn. Then she exhales slowly through pursed lips, listening to the way the hiss of her breath mingles with the sounds around her.

She hears Adora’s footsteps crossing the room as softly as she can. Catra opens her eyes.

“You okay?” Adora asks.

Catra takes another deep breath but doesn’t hold it this time, exhaling as her tail brushes Adora’s shin. “Yeah.”

Adora wraps her hands around Catra’s waist, resting her head on Catra’s shoulder. They stand silent for a moment. Only when they let go does Catra notice that Adora is wearing a thick blue cloak with a hood pulled low over her forehead. Catra raises her eyebrows.

“There’s a lot of people coming today,” Adora says. “They all want to talk to She-Ra and I understand that. But…I just want a little time to spend with my girlfriend first. I have one for you too, if you want it.”

Catra does not point out how many people know Adora’s face, or that Catra’s ears are likely to give her away. She does roll her eyes at how cheesy they look with their matching cloaks, but Adora lightly shoulder-checks her, saying, “You _like_ it.”

The grounds are an impressive sight already. It’s not just citizens of Bright Moon this year; Catra spots several groups of Plumerians decked out in thick, leafy garlands. She even notices a pair of Salineans, which prompts her to look away, tugging her hood so that it obscures more of her face.

They walk hand-in-hand, munching on warm pastries and fresh fruit from stands sprinkled across the open grounds. Eventually they come across a crowd of people gathering around two performers. One of them, a blonde woman with a paper cutout of a heart on her chest, is lying on the ground, face scrunched in an exaggerated grimace of pain. The other, kneeling beside her, lifts her up by the shoulders, holds her to her chest and wails at the sky. Her curved horns have been decorated to look like ears. Adora and Catra freeze.

“Nope,” says Catra.

“Nope,” Adora agrees.

They walk in the other direction as quickly and discreetly as they can.

One baker is giving out small, round pastries that smell suspiciously like chocolate. Catra doesn’t take one, choosing instead to smile at Adora as she stuffs a whole one into her mouth. Adora hums with delight when she discovers the thick chocolate filling.

“One per person, if you don’t mind,” says the baker. “Take what you want from the other baskets, but I only have so many of these. They aren’t going to last long as it is.”

“In that case,” says Catra, as Adora’s shoulders slump in disappointment. “I’m going to save mine for later.” Catra picks a pastry out of the basket, holding it between her thumb and forefinger. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches with amusement as Adora’s expression slips from concerned to confused to delighted. Her final expression is so excited that Catra can’t help herself. Once they’re out of earshot of the baker, Catra says, “I thought I would grab one for Glimmer in case they run out before she can make her appearance.”

“Oh,” says Adora, her shoulders slumping. “Yeah. Good idea.” Catra immediately stops, giggling at the look of dejection on Adora’s face.

“Stop it,” Catra says. “Obviously it’s for you, dummy.” Catra presses the pastry into Adora’s hand, laughing at her expression of stunned disbelief. “You are such an idiot.”

“But,” Adora looks at the pastry, unsure. “What about Glimmer?”

Catra scoffs. “Please. All Sparkles has to do is tell them who she is, and they’ll give her, like, five. They’ll make her a whole basket if she asks them to. That one is yours.”

Adora looks like she might start crying at any second. Catra giggles again, and Adora pulls her into a long kiss.

“She-Ra!” 

The delighted shout of a small child snatches their attention; Adora and Catra jump apart, meeting the gaze of a little boy with curved horns peeking out of a mesh of curly black hair. 

“She-Ra!” he shouts again, pointing at Adora. Several festival-goers turn their heads. “She-Ra and Catra kissing!”

“Well,” Catra smirks as the child hugs Adora’s leg, giggling. People are starting to whisper, looking at Adora with expressions of awe. “That was nice while it lasted.”

Adora, her cover thoroughly blown, pulls her hood back and smiles at the swarm of exhilarated party-goers who are rushing to greet her. Catra positions herself as a sort of shield against the first onslaught, but a surprising number of people want to talk to her too. Several children are carrying dolls of her - of _her_ , not just Adora - which always gives Catra a sick, twisted feeling in her chest. She wonders if anyone has connected this short-haired, smiling feline with the co-leader of the siege on Salineas. 

Adora transforms into She-Ra, which is pretty much inevitable with a crowd this size. She finds a bench loaded with small children, who clutch each other and giggle in anticipation, and lifts it over her head with one arm. The children shriek in delight and Adora aims a cocky grin at the crowd. Catra catches herself staring, warmth rising in her cheeks.

“Aww.”

Catra whirls around to find Bow looking at her with a ridiculous grin. He starts to giggle.

“Shut up.” Catra scowls and whacks him on the shoulder as heat spreads across her face. She turns back to find Adora watching her.

Adora _winks_.

Catra blushes so hard she can feel her face glowing as Bow doubles over with laughter.

Most of the princesses join the party in the afternoon. Frosta supervises an ice sculpture contest in one corner of the yard, while Sea Hawk and Swift Wind lead willing volunteers through group shanties. Netossa sets up a net in an open space, and she and Catra teach some of the older children how to play netball. Every so often, Catra and Adora make eye contact with each other, over their shoulders, across the lawn. They share a smile, and something warm rekindles in Catra’s stomach.

Scorpia and Perfuma play with some of the smallest children underneath a flowery tree. Catra watches from a distance, Melog humming curiously at her side, as Perfuma creates tiny flower-chains and Scorpia lifts giggling toddlers so they can touch the highest branches of the tree.

“Adorable, isn’t it?” says Glimmer. Catra turns to see the queen by her side, wearing a soft lavender cloak with a hood covering her crown.

Scorpia sets down a small girl with twigs sticking out of her hair. The child clutches Scorpia’s claw, shouting, “Again! Again!” With a dexterity Catra has never seen from her, Scorpia hooks the back of her tiny tunic onto one claw and gently sets her down a few feet away, where a young woman scoops her up.

“It’s strange,” Glimmer says, as the young woman instructs the child to say ‘thank you.’ “These kids will grow up not remembering the Horde, or the war. Peacetime will be normal for them.”

Now _there’s_ a thought. They’re looking at a generation who will always know Etheria as it is now, with stars and flowers and magic everywhere. They won’t know the harsh green machinery or the smoking towns or the angry red insignias. They won’t know Catra for her part in the war, except what their elders tell them. Catra frowns, watching a Salinean woman encourage her child to take a flower from Perfuma’s hand.

“Scorpia and Perfuma are so good together,” says Glimmer. “I bet they’ll do something like this at their wedding. It’s weird to think it’s only a month away.” 

Catra tries to imagine it. She knows, intellectually, how different the Fright Zone is now, but the image of children there still pulls at her insides. 

“They’re both so good with kids,” Gimmer continues. “They’re going to be great mothers.”

Catra has no answer to that. She hasn’t thought about any of the princesses having children, more or less wondered who would be good at it. Catra has, she’s been told, “no frame of reference for a positive parental relationship,” at least, none that she can remember. But this isn’t therapy; it’s a conversation with her friend the Queen of Brightmoon, who is pretending not to be the Queen of Brightmoon. Catra spends a moment coming up with an adequate response.

“That disguise isn’t going to work for very long,” is the best she can do. 

Glimmer smirks. “Maybe not. I figure I’ll be okay as long as I don’t make out with anyone in the middle of the lawn.”

“Hey,” Catra snarls, heat rising in her cheeks. “We weren’t _making out_ -”

But Glimmer is already laughing. 

As usual, the crowds clear out before dinner. Catra stops herself from asking where the people from other kingdoms are staying; even if it was her job (which it isn’t), she is not interested in working right now. 

It’s an odd skill she and Adora have had to learn: the concept of maintaining a balance between work time and personal time. Catra spent most of her cadet years avoiding work, followed by three years of doing nothing _but_. Even now, it’s hard not to think of things she should run by Glimmer at their next meeting, which problems need to be addressed by the Queen and which can be delegated. Adora makes fun of her for it sometimes; of course, she never knew the Catra who spent every waking moment devoted to her work. That’s a strange concept too: there is a side of her that Adora has not seen up close.

Even after the villagers leave, the group of people staying for dinner is larger than it’s ever been. Catra hangs back from the chaos of princesses and their guests claiming tables, until there’s only one cluster of empty seats left. Catra’s heart skips a beat when she realizes it’s at the table where Mermista is sitting. At Catra’s side, Melog grunts, looking away. 

Adora catches her trying to sneak away from the banquet. “Are you okay?” she asks.

“I-” Catra looks around, fumbling for words. She doesn’t want to lie, not to Adora, not anymore, but the truth of the situation is shameful. Melog whimpers, hiding behind Catra’s legs, their ears drooping. 

Adora looks from them to the tables and back again. She does not understand. Catra sighs. 

“The only empty seats are near Mermista,” she says, keeping her voice low. 

Adora’s face does that thing where it goes through seven different expressions in the span of about four seconds. 

“I’ll eat later,” Catra says. “There’s always leftovers.” She feels like a coward, like she’s running away from an awkward encounter with her tail between her legs, but she’s not avoiding the Salinean princess out of fear. Mermista has made it very clear that she wants nothing to do with Catra - not apologies, not reparations, _nothing_ \- and Catra wants to respect that. It’s the least she can do after…everything.

Adora sighs. “Well,” she says, “if you’re missing dinner, then I am too.”

Catra freezes. She doesn’t know if Adora remembers the last time she said that exact thing, or the effect it had on Catra more than ten years later. 

“No,” Catra shakes her head, blinking against the tears that are threatening to well up in her eyes. “You’re She-Ra. You need to be there.”

“And you’re the Advisor to the Queen of Bright Moon. You’re important, too.” Adora rests her hand on Catra’s shoulder and squeezes. “I have an idea. I’ll find you in a few minutes, okay?”

It takes more than a few minutes, but Adora finds her on a stretch of rock overlooking the river. She’s carrying two plates of food, Glimmer and Bow behind her with more. 

“What are you doing?” Catra narrows her eyes.

“This is one of my favorite spots!” says Glimmer, carefully balancing two plates of food as she sits down. “We used to have picnics here all the time when I was a kid. I love the view of the river.” Meanwhile, Bow somehow manages to set down four cups of water without spilling, and Adora sits so close to Catra that their shoulders touch.

This is ridiculous. “You can’t skip dinner,” Catra says to Glimmer. “You’re the Queen!”

“And you,” Glimmer points at the space between Catra’s eyes, “are not working right now. Neither am I. We are good friends having a picnic on Restoration Day. Or, we’re two couples celebrating our anniversaries together.”

That’s right; today is Bow and Glimmer’s anniversary, too. Catra always forgets that. A lot of things happened on that day, and Bow and Glimmer took a long time to start acting like a couple, at least the way she and Adora did. To be fair, Adora and Catra were practically glued to each other from the moment their relationship became official, so that bar is pretty high.

Still, this isn’t some teenage drama about friendship and loyalty. Catra committed a _war crime_ against Mermista’s kingdom. But when Catra opens her mouth to say this, Adora shoves a fishcake into it.

“I love this day,” Glimmer says, sometime later as they watch the sun drift toward the horizon. “Bright Moon and the other kingdoms have their own holidays for things that happened hundreds of years ago, and I always enjoyed them, but this one is special.” Bow wraps an arm around her shoulders and she leans into him. Adora is smiling, wisps of stray hair drifting in the evening breeze. Catra’s hand rests on the small of her back. “I like it so much,” Glimmer laughs a little, “I almost forgot that the next Princess Prom is only three years away.”

“Okay,” says Bow. “Now I just feel old.”

Glimmer punches Adora in the shoulder. “Can you believe we’ve known each other for seven years?” Catra looks away as they laugh together. It doesn’t hurt now in the same way it used to, but she’s never sure how to respond. Melog sighs, their ears wilting as they rest their chin on their paws. Traitor. 

“Technically,” Bow offers a wry smile to Catra. “You’ve known us that long, too.” Catra gives him a half-smile in return. “Remember when you arranged to have me kidnapped at the last Princess Prom?”

“Remember when you convinced Kyle to tell you where Glimmer was being held?” the reply is out of Catra’s mouth before she can stop herself. Bow laughs.

“Wait,” says Adora. “That was Kyle?” Bow nods and Adora rolls her eyes. “Typical.” Catra rubs her back and she says, “I-I mean that was obviously good. For us. But still…”

“Seriously, Kyle?” Catra says. They laugh, pressing their temples together. There’s silence for a moment, until Glimmer breaks it.

“It’s going to be here, you know. The next ball.”

Bow gasps so loudly that Catra worries he’s going to hurt himself. Catra raises her eyebrows, surprised that Glimmer hasn’t mentioned this before. Adora has the strangest reaction, turning her head so fast that her ponytail whips Catra in the face. 

“Wait,” Adora says, “What?”

Glimmer shrugs. “I won’t have to start planning for at least another year.” Two years to plan Princess Prom. Typical. “And you don’t have to do anything different, Adora, so don’t worry.”

“It’s not that.” Adora frowns. “It’s just…for some reason I thought it was Scorpia’s turn.” 

“Well,” Glimmer looks uncomfortable. “She _should_ have hosted the ball in the decade before the Kingdom of Snows. I was too little to know much about it, but they had it moved...for obvious reasons I guess. Plumeria hosted that year instead.” 

There’s a moment of silence while Glimmer looks at the horizon, furrowing her brow in that way she does when she’s coming up with an idea. 

“Maybe,” she says, “I should ask Scorpia if she wants to host the ball instead of me. She wouldn’t get a chance otherwise, and I’ve been hosting these parties every year. It would be a nice gesture, having the All-Princess Ball in what used to be the Fright Zone. It would really show everyone how much the world has changed, you know?”

“It would make her really happy,” Bow says.

Glimmer looks at Catra. “What do you think?” 

Catra smirks. “I thought I wasn’t working right now.”

“No, I mean, I-” Glimmer sighs. “You know what I mean.”

Catra shrugs. The idea of spending Princess Prom in the former Fright Zone does not appeal to her for a variety of reasons that will apply to no one else except…

Adora is looking away, her jaw clenched and her eyes narrow. She looks even more anxious than Catra feels. Catra rests a hand on her shoulder.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Adora says.

Catra isn’t sure she believes that. Because Bow and Glimmer don’t seem to notice, she doesn’t say anything until much later when the bonfire is roaring and one of the princesses is playing a fiddle. Catra drapes an arm over Adora’s shoulders and asks, “Are you okay?”

They never pretend anymore, not with each other. It’s something that years of therapy has taught them. Adora sighs.

“This is going to sound really stupid.” Adora sighs, flexing and releasing her fingers. “Do you remember that vision of the future I told you about?”

“Vision of the…oh.” Oh.

Several snide comments come to mind, but Adora doesn’t look like she can handle any of them. Instead, Catra squeezes her shoulders as an invitation.

“I just…” Adora sighs in that way she does when she’s frustrated with herself. “When Glimmer said it was Bright Moon’s turn, I was surprised, obviously, but also…relieved? Like…okay, so I _can’t_ predict the future. That’s good. I don’t want to do that.” She’s talking faster now. “But then my bringing it up gave Glimmer the idea, which means I made it happen and that is… _so_ much worse. What does that mean for me, or for She-Ra, or…”

Catra uses the pause between words as an opportunity to interrupt her. She cups Adora’s face in her hands and looks her square in the eyes.

“Adora,” Catra says. “Breathe. You’re spiraling.” Adora closes her eyes, taking a deep and trembling breath. “Good. Stay with me. You had a vision once when you were dying. It’s a future you wanted to happen, but we won’t know if it’s the actual future until we get there. Here’s a thought: maybe that _doesn’t matter._ Breathe. _”_

Adora takes another deep breath.

“Good. Maybe things will happen exactly as you saw them.” That one-shoulder cape thing did sound really cool. “Or maybe they won’t. What’s important is that we go to the ball together and Sparkles does not get near me with a hairbrush. Those things are _already_ going to happen so…we’re good.”

Adora laughs, which seems to cut off her mounting anxiety. This is clearly not just about her vision. Catra pulls her into a hug.

“It’s going to be weird,” she says in Adora’s ear. “Partying in the Fright Zone. I’m a little nervous about it myself. But it looks so different now, and Scorpia as a host will be completely different than anything we went through in the Horde. And if it’s still too much? We leave early.”

Adora doesn’t reply.

They spend the rest of the evening listening to Scorpia and Perfuma talk about their wedding, Catra keeping an eye on Adora, just in case. The happy couple is drunk and giggly, talking in great detail about their plans. Catra learns more about the art of conjuring flower arrangements than she ever needed to know. Eventually, one of them mentions having children, and Catra learns more about scorpion reproduction than she ever _wanted_ to know. 

Adora and Catra finish off a bottle of wine between them, then turn in early, leaning on each other as they make their way back to the castle. 

“Do you want to get married?” Adora says when they’re in their bedroom. Catra jumps, causing Adora to stumble. 

“Are you…” Catra shakes her head. “Are you proposing to me? Now?”

“What?” Adora shakes her head. “No! I just…” Catra bursts out laughing. Adora sits on the bed. “No. I mean. I want to propose to you. But not yet. I want it to be special. I just...want to make sure you’re okay with it, first.”

Catra is torn between laughing and crying. She settles for kissing Adora.

“When you propose,” she says, pressing their foreheads together. “I’ll say yes.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

They flop together on the bed, still in their clothes, and almost immediately fall asleep.


	5. Year Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some alcohol consumption. Everyone is of age.

The fifth year is…not great. 

Since it’s the only year when Catra and Adora are engaged, it's probably supposed to be one of the best. But, for a variety of reasons, it’s not. 

First: Adora is getting over a bad case of the flu. Her fever breaks a few days before the party, just as the first princesses start to arrive in Bright Moon. Catra all but glues herself to Adora’s side to make sure she doesn’t overdo it, which means she sits out the Princess-and-Princess-Adjacent Netball Tournament for the first time. While Netossa and Frosta engage in what looks like an _amazing_ netball match, Adora and Catra sit on the castle steps, fielding eight million questions about their engagement.

“Who proposed?”

“Where did you do it?”

“Did you know it was going to happen?”

“Was it romantic?”

“Tell us everything!”

“Really, Bow?” Catra rolls her eyes. Arrow Boy is flushed, clasping his hands and beaming like he hasn’t heard the story at least ten times in the past two months. 

“There’s a new audience! It’ll be like hearing it for the first time!” 

He’s not wrong: Perfuma, Scorpia, Casta, Bow’s dads, and a handful of others have surrounded them so closely that Catra can smell each of their breaths individually. She puts a protective hand in front of Adora, grumbling “give us some air.” The crowd sits back, albeit reluctantly.

“Okay,” Adora clears her throat. “So. Uh. I proposed.” Bow and Perfuma squeal. Scorpia smiles, tears brimming in her eyes. Adora clears her throat again, and Catra passes her a water bottle.

Catra saw the proposal coming from literal miles away, partially because she and Adora had their drunken conversation about it exactly one year ago, followed by a series of follow-up discussions over the next few months. They talked about doing it somewhere private (they agreed vehemently on this), about what Catra would give to Adora (Adora was content to say that She-Ra’s mask counted, but they decided on one of Catra’s many fingerless gloves), and whether they wanted to have one of those "Engagement Party” things (absolutely not). 

Two months ago when Adora took Catra on a camping trip in the Whispering Woods, Catra knew what was going to happen. She saw it in Adora’s determination that everything be perfect, in Adora’s nervous demeanor and shifting expressions, in the way she fidgeted with the pin on her belt almost constantly, as if to check that it was still there. Catra made sure to wear her favorite pair of fingerless gloves the whole time.

The Whispering Woods have always been a complicated place for the two of them. The Fright Zone has baggage that they will be managing for the rest of their lives, but the Whispering Woods is a place of turning points: separation and betrayal, grief and loss, anger and rage and heartbreak. It was a catalyst for some of the worst things they did to each other. In the woods, Catra and Adora fought and tried to reconcile, begged each other to stay and left each other behind, each moment feeling like a Point of No Return. 

Over the years, they have reclaimed it through hiking and camping and picnics, sometimes with Bow and Glimmer or Melog and Swift Wind, sometimes just the two of them. They’ve explored First Ones ruins and slept under the stars, discovered pockets of concentrated magic, picked berries and made pies with Madam Razz. They’ve stayed up all night telling stories and secrets, airing out old wounds and setting them free to float away like the fireflies that danced over their heads, higher and higher until they blended in with the stars in the sky.

Adora doesn’t tell that part, obviously. The Whispering Woods are beautiful, full of life and magic; this is the reason she gives when she tells the story. She describes the small, rocky outcropping overlooking a valley, the soft blue grass reaching to the very edge, the view of the moons and stars in an open sky in front of them. Everyone is crying by the time she reaches the part where she took the gold wing pin from her belt and pressed it into Catra’s hands; no long speeches about their past, or their future, just them, together under a night sky, surrounded by the magic they had restored to the planet.

Lance dabs his eyes with his sleeve, while Scorpia sobs into a tissue. Perfuma rubs her wife’s back, saying “It’s alright, buttercup.”

Scorpia’s pregnancy is only subtly visible, but she smells different and she carries herself cautiously. Since they arrived, she has not been without a cup of herbal tea in hand for more than a minute, courtesy of Perfuma. Catra will never admit how adorable it is, even though in Scorpia’s position she would have bitten someone a long time ago.

Adora’s voice is getting hoarse, so Catra squeezes her shoulders and takes over. Perfuma brings Adora a cup of herbal tea with Scorpia’s next refill, and Adora sips in silence while Catra fields increasingly complex questions about their wedding plans.

“Aunt Casta,” says Glimmer, as Catra tries to find a tactful way to say that she doesn’t know what a “centerpiece” is. “Adora and Catra _just_ got engaged-”

“Which means,” Casta claps her hands in front of her face, “this is the _perfect_ time to start planning! There’s so much to do! You don’t want to leave _anything_ to the last minute. Trust me, I have _lots_ of experience with this sort of thing…” 

Glimmer grimaces at Catra over Casta’s shoulder as Melog hides their face under their paws, grumbling. Several people are nodding along with Casta, apparently in full agreement.

Again, Glimmer tries to remind everyone that Catra and Adora, having grown up in the Horde, know next to nothing about wedding traditions. It backfires spectacularly, turning the barrage of questions into a full-scale assault of unsolicited advice. Scorpia, having been in their position, tries to hint that maybe everyone should give them space. It works for about three minutes.

Adora starts coughing, a fit so well-timed that if Catra didn’t know Adora better she would have assumed it was on purpose. Casta and the others back down for now, letting the conversation shift to Scorpia and Perfuma’s soon-to-be-much-larger family. Catra tries to show interest, but the longer they talk, the more she finds herself looking wistfully at the Netball tournament, which is fizzling out much earlier than usual.

That’s another reason this year is not her favorite. There’s less activity than usual: no sparring matches in the yard, fewer people playing Netball, no arm-wrestling matches, not even a Drum Circle. Almost everyone is content to sit around and just talk.

It’s not _terrible,_ the afternoon light warming her face as Adora rests her head on Catra’s shoulder. They drink tea and juice - some of them switch to wine later on - and talk about bedroom arranging and scorpion-proofing, which crystals and herbs are best for creating a “positive environment for the babies to flourish,” how to figure out who will inherit the connection to the Black Garnet and who will “vibe with the Heart Blossom.” Still, Melog starts shifting and rolling restlessly on the ground, and Catra knows why.

The Catra from five years ago might have clawed someone's eyes out or stormed away by now, but today’s Catra listens, dodging Castaspella’s increasingly unsubtle hints about her talent for planning events and laughing at how excited Bow is to become an uncle. Even so, she’s grateful when Adora starts to doze off. They excuse themselves, and Adora leans on Catra as they make their way to the bedroom.

“I hate this,” says Adora, flopping on the bed, her voice low and raspy. Catra checks her forehead; she’s warm but not feverish. “My whole body feels like lead. I didn’t even _do_ anything.” 

Catra runs her fingers over Adora’s hair-poof. “You’re still recovering. It takes time.” She helps Adora take off her jacket and boots, then sits beside her, stroking her hair as Adora drifts off to sleep. 

Once Adora is snoring, Catra takes the empty pitcher and cup from the nightstand. She sneaks toward the kitchens as quietly and discreetly as she can, Melog at her side, hoping to avoid another conversation with Casta. She hears Mermista around a corner and pauses, her ears twitching. She doesn’t hear footsteps, just voices.

Catra has agreed to stay away from Mermista, but she hasn’t agreed not to walk around the castle where she lives. She starts walking again, but Scorpia’s voice stops her cold.

“There’s something you should know,” Scorpia says. “About me.”

“What?” Mermista sounds confused. “What are you talking about?”

“During the war,” Scorpia says. Catra shrinks back against the wall, heart pounding. She nods at Melog, who cloaks them both. “I wasn’t high-ranking enough to know _all_ of Hordak’s plans, but I _was_ a Force Captain. I knew…a lot of things. Well, not a _lot_ of things. Not as much as I…anyway, that’s not important.” Scorpia inhales. “I knew about the siege on Salineas.”

There is silence. Catra’s heart is hammering so hard she can feel it in her neck and temples. Melog is trembling at her side.

“I know I wasn’t there, but…you need to know that I didn’t leave the Horde _because_ of what we were going to do to Salineas. I left because…I left to save Entrapta. If Entrapta hadn’t needed me, if… if things had been…different. I would have stayed. I would have been part of it.”

After a beat: “Why are you telling me this?”

“I just…” Scorpia sighs. “Just in case, you…you know…in case that changes anything about…inviting me to your wedding.”

Oh. _Oh_.

Catra feels Melog grow tense. Her own heart is still thudding, and she’s starting to feel lightheaded.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mermista sounds irritated. “You’re one of us now.”

“And I’m very happy about that; very much appreciated, obviously. You guys are way better than being with the Horde, yes, definitely.” Scorpia is talking quickly, as she does when she’s nervous. “What I’m saying is…look, I’m not trying to be that person who tells you who to invite or not invite to your wedding. Perfuma and I had people doing that and I know they meant well but it was easier when they just gave us space. I don’t want to be that person.

“What I’m trying to say is…if you’re not inviting people because of what they did to Salineas, you should know that I was almost part of it. If I had stayed with the Horde _two more days,_ I would have been one of the Force Captains leading the attack.”

There is a long silence. Catra does a breathing exercise to calm her pounding heart and quell the dizziness. Melog nuzzles her palm with their face; instinctively Catra scratches behind their ears.

“So,” says Scorpia, “if you want-”

“Stop.” Mermista’s voice is dark and cold and angry. Very few people have heard her talk like this. Catra has, but just the one time. “I get what you’re trying to do, and I need you to stop. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Okay,” says Scorpia. “Yep. Got it. I understand. I’m done. No more.”

Catra tenses at the sound of footsteps coming toward her. Even though she’s still invisible, she flattens herself against the wall as Mermista storms past, fists and teeth clenched, tears in the corners of her eyes.

Melog keeps the cloak up all the way to the kitchens. The two of them appear just long enough to fill the pitcher with water, then vanish again for the walk back to the bedroom.

Catra doesn’t care about going to Mermista’s wedding. She knows why Mermista doesn’t want her there, and she’s _fine_ with that. The problem is that Scorpia apparently knows enough to want to come to Catra’s defense. Meanwhile, Adora hasn’t said a word about it, which means she doesn’t know. If Scorpia knows and Adora doesn’t, that can only mean one thing.

She-Ra isn’t invited to Mermista’s wedding, and it’s Catra’s fault. 

Catra fills the glass and sets it on the nightstand. Planting a soft kiss on a still-snoring Adora’s forehead (Adora stirs and grumbles but does not wake up), she slips out through the balcony and climbs onto the roof. 

She has always enjoyed surveying her surroundings from the highest vantage point; it makes her feel powerful and safe. Although there is nothing to be afraid of here, the top of the spire is peaceful and calming in the way the afternoon light twinkles on the river delta, in the gentle green vines creeping up and down the cliffs. Catra watches two moons edging toward the horizon and tries to clear her head.

When she returns, Adora is drinking the water.

“How are you feeling?” Catra asks. 

“Better,” Adora’s voice sounds stronger than before. “I really needed that.” She looks from Melog, curled up on the floor with a despondent expression, to Catra, to the balcony she had just come from. “Are you okay?”

Catra sighs. No lying; no pretending. “I overheard something I wasn’t supposed to hear.”

Adora’s expression softens. “Come here.” She holds out her arms, and Catra lets herself be wrapped up. Adora presses her cheek into Catra’s hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Yes. No. “Maybe later?”

They rest in silence for a moment as Melog visibly calms. Catra is thinking about how to explain what she heard when a knock on the door interrupts them. 

“Come in!” Adora says.

It’s one of the castle guards. “Sorry to interrupt,” she says, bowing her head. “I have a message from Queen Glimmer. She says the delegation from Halfmoon has arrived.”

Catra’s heart pounds as Melog grows tense again. 

Adora rests a hand on Catra’s shoulder. “I thought they weren’t supposed to get here for another two days.”

The guard shrugs as an apology. “They’re here now. The Queen is with them in the hall. She says it’s alright if you can’t come today, but she wanted you to know.”

Catra and Adora exchange glances. 

“I’m still not at my best,” says Adora, even though she _just said_ how much better she’s feeling. Her expression is concerned, her voice strong. Catra looks away. “We can stay here and see them tomorrow.”

“No,” says Catra. “If we’re going to do this, I’d rather do it now.”

Halfmoon’s presence is another reason this year is not the best. Why the Princess of Halfmoon chose _this_ year to break her kingdom’s 20-year seclusion, Catra doesn’t know, but Princess Saz sent ambassadors about a month ago, and Catra’s been on edge ever since.

Because apparently the Princess of Halfmoon and her subjects are all cat people.

It’s not that Catra has never met her kind; just the opposite, in fact. Four years ago, she, Adora, Bow, and Glimmer visited the planet that Catra’s people came from. They call themselves “Magicats” and they have the most amazing sports Catra has ever played. Catra’s pretty sure the squad stayed an extra two days just to give her time to learn them all. (Actually it’s more likely they stayed longer so Catra could get to know her people, but they never admitted that, so neither will she.) 

The people of Halfmoon are different. They aren’t the space-faring warriors or the competitive athletes she’d met on the Magicat homeworld. The ambassadors who visited Bright Moon were stuffy and official. Glimmer put on her best friendly-and-diplomatic queen front, yet Catra didn’t see any of them smile even once. She doesn’t know what Princess Saz will be like, but it seems unlikely that she’ll be any better.

Melog stays by Catra’s side and Adora holds her hand as they approach the Queen’s hall. Catra’s palms are sweating, her heart is pounding, and Melog is panting. 

“Hey,” says Adora, taking her by the shoulders as the messenger leaves them at the door. “It’s gonna be okay. If it gets too much, you do the signal and I’ll pretend I’m not feeling well. Okay?”

The "signal" is scratching behind her right ear with her left hand. Catra has seen enough of Adora’s "acting" to feel wary of her ability to feign illness, even hours after feeling genuinely sick. Still, the offer is nice. 

Catra smiles and squeezes Adora’s hand. “Thank you.”

A small group has gathered in the hall, guards and courtiers around the outside, Glimmer and Bow standing at the bottom of the steps to the throne. Glimmer looks surprised to see Adora and Catra, but recovers quickly enough to announce their presence.

The group at the center of the chamber turns, making Catra’s fur stand on end. She has to resist the urge to run. Adora squeezes her hand.

Princess Saz is obvious. She’s dressed in lavender, deep purple and gold, elegant and regal from the tips of her boots to the sash across her shoulder to the gold headband pinning back her black hair. The headband frames her face in a way that makes Catra’s stomach churn. 

Catra breathes through her pounding heart, forcing herself to engage in the necessary exchanges. Saz is poised and dignified - more so than most of the other princesses even though none of them will admit it - and there is something warm and welcoming in her gaze. She gives Catra a soft, knowing smile; this more than anything makes her want to turn and run. There’s a moment of silence during which Catra very nearly gives the signal. 

Then, Saz nods to the group of - guards? courtiers? family? - behind her. One of them sets down a small child with a mane of thick black hair. The child runs on all fours to Saz’s feet, and she scoops him up in one fluid motion. His tiny brown feet swing in the air, his tail twitching from side to side as he looks at them, curious. 

“This is my son, Prince Tao.” Saz scratches behind the small kitten’s ears, causing him to close his eyes and purr. The sight of him sends Catra’s insides twisting and folding on themselves. 

Adora, on the other hand, is near tears. “Oh my gosh,” she whispers, folding her hands in front of her face. 

Glimmer leads them on a tour of the grounds, Saz in the front, Tao flitting in and out. Three attendants are tasked with his care, scooping him out of trees, following him as he chases a bird or a butterfly, dangling a long string to lure him back to the group. Eventually the tiny prince climbs into his mother’s arms and falls asleep. Adora can’t take her eyes off him, which would be hilarious if Catra weren’t teetering on the edge of panic.

Catra keeps her interactions polite but short. These are not her people. She does not know them, and they do not know her. She does not give Adora the signal, instead excusing herself as early as she can. 

Adora finds her later, lying on the balcony railing, gazing at the stars, one hand dangling to stroke Melog’s face. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Catra closes her eyes. “I’m not even sure I know what _it_ is. Are they mad?”

“What?” Adora sounds surprised. “No. Of course not. I just know you, and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Catra resists the urge to snap, “I’m fine.” She looks at Adora, who is sitting on the bed. Her face looks pale, with shadows under her eyes. Catra sits up. “Are _you_ okay?”

“Yeah,” Adora sighs, rubbing her eyes. “Just exhausted.” Her voice is slightly hoarse. She smiles wryly when Catra feels her forehead. No fever. “Hey. I thought it was my turn to fuss over you.”

“I’m not _fussing._ I just,” Catra cuts herself off at Adora’s smirk. She sighs, scowling and turning away.

“Come here,” Adora pulls her down until they’re cuddling on the bed, forehead to forehead, knee to knee. They stay this way, silent even after Melog curls up in the space between their legs.

Aside from moments of hoarseness and a lingering cough, Adora is much better the next day. She, like most of the princesses, spends most of the day fawning over Prince Tao. Being in his presence, in Saz’s presence, gives Catra a wiggling, restless feeling. Around midday, Catra slips away from the group and walks around the perimeter of the grounds, breathing slowly and listening to the sound of the wind in the trees. Melog stays close by her side.

Catra catches sight of Mermista sitting alone on a spot overlooking the river. She stops before Mermista notices her, shifting from foot to foot, gripping her forearm, running one hand over her hair. Her heart is pounding. Melog grunts.

“I know,” Catra whispers. “I just. Okay. Let’s just. Do this.”

She lets herself be seen rather than surprise Mermista with her voice. Mermista’s eyes narrow; she’s about to get up when Catra speaks.

“Don’t bother, I won’t be long.” She tries to keep her tone even, but it’s hard with her skin thrumming and fingers trembling. “I just want to warn you: maybe don’t have loud conversations about your wedding inside the castle if you’re looking to keep it a secret from people who live here.”

Mermista’s eyebrows knit together. “Were you spying on me?” 

Catra has to resist an urge to roll her eyes or laugh. She feels like she’s talking to Hordak: needing to keep up the perfect front lest she lose everything in one moment. But this isn’t Hordak and she isn’t that person anymore.

“No,” she says, pointing to one ear. “But I can hear people talking from a floor away, whether I want to or not.”

This is mostly true. It’s true enough, at least. Mermista sighs, clenching her fists.

“I only pay attention if they’re talking about something I need to hear, like…” Catra gives an exaggerated shrug. She is going about this all wrong. She can’t stop. “Oh, for example, _the Horde.”_

Mermista looks away, sighing again. This is going about as badly as Catra thought it would. 

“Look,” says Catra. “I don’t,” _I don’t care what you think of me. I don’t want to go to your dumb wedding._ “I understand why I’m not invited. This isn’t about that. This is about you keeping a huge secret from Adora.” _And now you’re asking me to keep it too. She’s going to find out eventually. Do you really think she won’t?_ Melog is watching her, their eyes narrow but their mane smooth. Catra lets her fingers graze the spot between their ears.

“I’m not keeping any secrets from Adora,” Mermista says, her voice short and cold. Catra freezes. She can’t possibly mean… “I was _planning_ to tell her in-person after I got here.” Catra relaxes, ever-so-slightly. “I wanted to talk to her alone, you know, for obvious reasons I guess.” Mermista looks away, nervous. Catra resists an urge to seize it as an opening. 

“I haven’t had the chance,” says Mermista, “because apparently finding time to talk to Adora privately is almost as hard as getting people to stop talking about my wedding for _ten seconds.”_

Catra can’t stop the wry laugh that escapes her. “Oh believe me, princess, I _hear you_ there. Just wait until Castaspella finds out.”

Mermista groans, throwing her head back. From her, that sound is almost…amicable. “Seriously. No thanks.” 

Catra can spot the exact moment Mermista remembers who she’s talking to. Her eyes narrow and she turns away, her fists clenching. 

“I won’t say anything to Adora until you do,” says Catra. There is a moment of silence. The sound of laughter wafts toward them from the castle, and Catra wonders if Mermista is going to respond at all. Just as she’s turning away, she sees Mermista nod.

On the path toward the castle, Catra passes Sea Hawk. She nods at him, her heart thudding.

“Thank you,” he says as she passes him.

Catra only hesitates for a moment. “Yeah. Sure.”

On the day of the festival, Adora is back to her old self. It’s nice to scratch _worrying about Adora_ off her list of things putting a damper on this year. It’s obvious by Adora’s demeanor that Mermista hasn’t spoken to her yet, so Catra tries to keep her mind off that one. There’s also the group from Halfmoon, who have become the most popular people in the castle. Catra can’t verbalize why she dislikes them, so she hasn’t tried, but it’s becoming difficult to avoid them without drawing attention to herself.

Late in the morning, Catra climbs to the top of one of the castle’s outer buildings, stroking Melog’s back and watching the crowds gather on the lawn.

A large group of children is playing a new game. One of the older ones, brandishing a wooden sword, chases the others for a while. Eventually they catch someone, tapping them on the shoulder with the tip of the sword. The first child drops the sword and runs away, while the second child picks it up, does a clumsy sort-of pirouette in place, and shouts “For the honor of Gray Skulls!”

Catra laughs. She really hopes Adora has seen this. 

Bow runs an activity that involves throwing some kind of small pillow at a target that he’s painted to look like a spire. Anyone who hits it gets a She-Ra figurine he made. Catra has seen him working on those every day for the past month. 

Entrapta and Wrong Hordak are showing off new devices and robots around a circular display in one corner, under Scorpia and Perfuma’s supervision. No one believes that Entrapta or Wrong Hordak would intentionally cause harm. It’s more that Entrapta’s boundary between “fascinating” and “too dangerous” is much farther out than most people are comfortable with. Not to mention the way she freely gushes about her “lab partner” back in Dryl. Scorpia is doing that thing where she laughs in order to cover the fact that she has no idea what’s going on. 

Catra doesn’t spot Adora until the afternoon, after all the princesses have joined the festivities. Adora is sitting on the steps to the castle, elbows on her knees. She’s wearing her cloak again, and she is very still. Melog raises their head abruptly as Catra realizes what’s wrong. She sighs, climbing down as quickly and quietly as she can. 

Why do these princesses feel the need to reveal dramatic information on the most important holiday of the year instead of _literally any other day?_

“Hey,” she says from the top of the steps. Adora jumps and looks over her shoulder. When she sees Catra, she relaxes. Melog rubs her knee with their face, and she scratches their ears. Catra sits next to her, close enough to touch but not initiating. She’s not sure what Adora needs right now.

“Mermista talked to me,” Adora says. 

“I’m sorry,” says Catra. “I told her I wouldn’t-”

“Why are _you_ sorry?” Adora throws up her hands. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

That is objectively not true, but they’ve had _that_ conversation before. Catra reaches around Adora’s shoulders and pulls her close, kissing the top of her head.

“It’s alright,” she says. “I don’t mind.”

“You’re a good person,” says Adora. “Everyone else sees that, why can’t she?”

Catra sighs. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Salineas fell more than six years ago.” Adora clenches her fists. “The Horde’s been gone for five years.” She throws up her hands again. “Five years today! That’s what this _whole thing_ is about. I fixed the Sea Gate _myself._ People went back to their homes at the same time as all the refugees in Bright Moon and Plumeria. Everything is fine now, and you…you’ve done _so much good_ since then.”

“Tell that to the people who died,” says Catra. Melog whines.

Adora does not respond for a long time. People are gathering around a platform with a small band of fiddlers and pipers. Catra can see Frosta, Netossa, Spinerella, and Swift Wind in the crowd. 

Adora’s voice starts to tremble. “I just hate that not everyone sees how great you are.”

Catra blushes. “That’s because you,” she kisses Adora’s temple, “are very biased.”

“Maybe,” Adora gives a small, weak smile. “But I’m also right.”

Catra doesn’t bother correcting her. She holds Adora tighter and rests her forehead against Adora’s as they watch the dancers make absolute _fools_ of themselves. 

“I have a really bad idea.” says Adora after a long silence.

“That tracks,” Catra says, which earns her a small shoulder-check. She giggles. “What is it?”

“What if we had our wedding on Restoration Day next year?”

“I,” Catra opens her mouth. Closes it. Thinks for a moment. She likes the idea, but it feels…selfish? 

“I like that today’s our anniversary,” Adora says. “It means so much. It would be weird to celebrate it on any other day, you know?” She looks at the crowd. “I don’t want to have a big ceremony.” Catra shakes her head; she doesn’t either. “But if we had a small ceremony in the morning and then came out and celebrated with…with everyone, afterward. I just think…” Tears are forming in the corners of Adora’s eyes. “It would be nice.” 

Catra is certainly not going to argue with having a small ceremony, though she’s certain Castaspella will. The idea grows on her, the more she thinks about it. She laces her fingers with Adora’s, smiling as they touch their foreheads together. 

“I love it,” she says, so soft she’s almost whispering. 

Adora kisses her. 

On one of the first planets they visited after the war, the citizens threw a massive party in She-Ra’s honor. Much like Princess Prom, they had music and tables piled high with food surrounding a huge dance floor. Catra assumed that she and the others - not knowing the steps to the dances on this planet - would stay on the perimeter, but Bow and Glimmer rushed into the crowd right away. She watched, confused, as they found an empty space on the floor and started to just…move around. 

No one seemed to follow any steps or patterns. It looked ridiculous from the outside, a chaotic mesh of waving arms and swaying bodies. People kept bumping into each other, which no one seemed to mind. It looked ridiculous. It looked beyond stupid. It looked...

Fun?

“What are they doing?” Catra remembers whispering to Adora. She doesn’t remember if Adora said anything, or whether she smiled at Catra in that way that turned Catra’s insides to mush. Adora held out a hand. At first, Catra shook her head no, but Melog wagged their tail and hummed with delight, blowing her cover instantly. Adora laughed, and Catra knew the fight was lost. She took Adora’s hand and let her new girlfriend lead her into the crowd.

She and Adora join this dance too, eventually. Catra flows into it more naturally now than she did back then. Adora jumps around with her hands in the air, and it’s just as funny now as it was the first time. There’s peace in this: surrounded as they are by noises and bodies, she and Adora manage to carve out a space that is just the two of them, just this. 

Dinner is more fun than expected, all things considered. Catra eats way too many fish cakes, then lounges on the grass near the fire pit, watching Adora and her friends - their friends - get increasingly drunk on Plumerian Pink Ale. Scorpia sits beside her, drinking what must be her thirtieth cup of herbal tea. They sit in silence for a long time.

Eventually, Catra takes a deep breath and says, “You’re going to be a really good mom.”

Catra can feel Scorpia staring at her with wide, teary eyes. “Really?”

Catra doesn’t understand why this means so much coming from _her._ She smiles, even as tears spill down Scorpia’s cheeks. “Yeah.”

Scorpia looks down at her cup of tea, her eyes sparkling. “I hope so. I’m so excited. And also...scared? I guess that’s normal. We don’t know the exact count yet, but the healers estimate six or seven.” 

Catra’s eyes grow wide. “What?”

“That’s pretty standard for scorpions,” Scorpia shrugs. “Sometimes we have smaller broods, like two or three, and sometimes there’s more. I mean,” she laughs, “a lot more. I’m good with six or seven though. Their tails won’t be dangerous as newborns but those pincers can get uncomfortable. Perfuma's been practicing her vine-swaddling, but who knows how long it will take them to learn how to cut through them.”

“I could,” the words are out of Catra’s mouth before she can stop them, “help out. Sometime. You know. If you needed it.” Her cheeks are flushing. She rubs the back of her neck, looking away. “Not that you need me to…just if you want help. From. From me.”

She hears Scorpia sniffle less than a second before she’s wrapped into a very tight hug. She tenses, as she always does, then relaxes into it with a soft smile. 

“I would love it,” Scorpia says.

It’s far from the best year, though they manage to salvage some positive memories. Someone makes a drunken fireside toast to the “the newlyweds and the new engagements.” As everyone cheers, Adora meets Catra’s eyes. They smile at each other in the way that momentarily erases everything around them. 

The boys start a loud, tearful ballad about love. Mermista sighs loudly, threatening to throw herself off a cliff. Catra laughs before she can stop herself and they make eye-contact, just for a moment. 

In the morning, Catra hides in the council chambers, pretending to busy herself with work while the delegation from Halfmoon prepares to leave. Princess Saz finds her there, much to Catra’s dismay. When the princess speaks, her voice is so calm and gentle that it stirs up a restless fury that Catra has spent years trying to tame. 

“I understand that you want to keep your distance from us, and I respect that.” Catra looks away. “I only wish to tell you how sorry I am for what happened to you.” Catra’s heart pounds. “That town was the last remaining Magicat settlement above ground. Its destruction by the Horde was the reason I decided to withdraw my people from the outside world. At the time, I believed there were no survivors. Obviously I was wrong. For that, I am deeply, truly sorry.”

Melog moans, their ears and tail drooping. Catra works to keep her expression impassive. “Thank you for telling me this.” Her voice is a hair’s breadth above a whisper. It takes everything she has to keep her tone steady.

Saz nods. “Consider this an open invitation to contact us in Halfmoon. I have extended similar invitations to She-Ra and the Queen of course, but yours is different. If you ever wish to _visit_ Halfmoon, you will be welcomed. You do not need a reason.”

Catra’s eyes are wide, her ears perked. The people of Halfmoon do not extend invitations casually. Her breath tangles up in her chest and all she can manage is a nod. Saz bows her head in return and leaves Catra to her solitude, where she can finally let her tears fall.

Adora finds her later. They sit together at the base of a large tree, holding each other as tightly as they can while the castle staff takes down the tables and decorations, clearing away the remnants of their celebration. She and Adora don’t say anything; they don’t need to. They simply sit, entangled in each other, foreheads touching, breath mingling as the cool morning breeze brushes them both like a caress. 


	6. Year Six

Catra vividly remembers the first time Adora kissed her. The night after they saved the universe, the Rebellion made camp in the valley, now coated with lush green vegetation and flowers of every shape and color imaginable. Some people spent the evening singing and laughing and bantering, while others simply held each other in contented silence. A few people fell asleep immediately after dinner. Just before going to bed, Adora and Catra slipped away to admire the breathtaking glow of Etheria’s new landscape in the dim moonlight.

Etheria’s newly-liberated magic rose and swirled around them. Catra and Adora let their fingers intertwine and their bodies shift closer and closer together as fireflies flickered and nocturnal plants dotted the landscape with their soft blue and purple glow. 

Catra doesn’t remember what she or Adora said. She does remember laughing in that giddy way she did all the time in the early days of their relationship. Their foreheads grazed and their eyes met, causing Catra’s stomach to swoop the way it always did when she caught Adora watching her like that. Then Adora’s lips found hers, and nothing else in the universe existed.

Something warm and bright flickered in front of her, but when Catra opened her eyes, it was gone. There was only Adora: _her_ Adora, her sweet, kind, idiot Adora, blushing and smiling and breathless.

“Did you,” Catra said, once she found her voice. “Did you just transform?”

“No!” said Adora, a little too forcefully. Her face fell and she muttered, “I almost did, but I stopped it.” 

Catra threw her head back and laughed so hard she could hear it echoing.

-

The sixth year is Catra and Adora’s wedding.

The final two months before the big day pass by in a flurry of plans and problems and arrangements and negotiations and _people_ . They manage to keep the ceremony small, despite Castaspella’s protests. In compromise, they give Casta free reign to plan the reception - including the Restoration Day festivities - however she likes. It’s true that she’s _very_ good at it. All Catra and Adora have to do is nod along and occasionally pretend to decide between fabrics or flowers or plates. Even that isn’t so bad once Catra learns how to read Castaspella’s expression to figure out which one she wants them to pick.

Adora oscillates between contentment and terror on a near-hourly basis. One moment she’s telling Bow or Glimmer or Swift Wind that everything will be fine as long as they’re all together; the next moment she’s built an alcove papered with lists and diagrams connected by color-coded string. 

They take turns calming her down; Swift Wind takes her on a joy ride over the forest, Bow helps her outline her latest map of the Whispering Woods, and Glimmer takes her to “raid” the kitchens for cake (“raid” being a relative term, as Glimmer is the Queen and therefore allowed to take cake from the kitchens whenever she wants).

Catra knows a variety of ways to help Adora relax.

For her part, Catra ranges from indifferent to annoyed at all the traditions and superstitions that go with wedding-planning. Everyone has _opinions_ : which types of flowers need to be placed where; the number, color, size and placement of the most important decorative crystals; who should be present at the ceremony; which music should be played and when. It’s overwhelming, especially for two people who had never even _heard_ the word “wedding” until their early twenties.

Glimmer, of all people, helps the most, by assuring them that there are very few things they _actually_ _need_ for a wedding. Everything else is optional. 

“Do what has meaning for you,” she says, taking both of their hands and standing straight with that quiet authority that she has perfected over the past few years. “That’s all that matters.”

Catra does enjoy the chance to requisition a new suit from the Bright Moon tailors. She’s been waiting _years_ to try out the one-shoulder cape that Adora described to her, and the result is not disappointing. 

Twirling in the mirror, Catra gives herself a smug grin over her shoulder. “I am going to wear this,” she tells Castaspella, “every day for the rest of my life.”

“After the wedding, feel free,” Casta replies with a satisfied smile.

-

The day before they reached their first planet after the war, Adora went quiet. As she often did before a major challenge, she spent most of her time training alone, only taking breaks for food or sleep after some cajoling.

That night, Catra woke up to find Adora sitting up, her face buried in her hands. Catra wrapped her arms around Adora’s shoulders and waited until she was ready to talk. 

“What if I can’t do it?” Adora’s voice trembled and cracked. “What if it’s not enough? What if _I’m_ not enough?”

Catra ran her fingers through Adora’s hair. “What was the last thing Mara said to you?” she whispered.

“Catra-”

“The last time you spoke to her. What did she say?” 

Adora lowered her hands, revealing her tear-streaked face. “I’m worth more than what I can give to other people.”

“Good. What else?”

“I…” Adora took a deep, shuddering breath. “I deserve love too.”

“That’s right. One more time, for me?”

Adora sank into Catra’s embrace. “I deserve love, too.”

-

One week before the wedding, Scorpia’s ship touches down on a flat, gravely stretch near the river at Bright Moon. Catra stands back, waving and grinning as seven little scorpions spill out of it. Some of them roll around on the gravel, others cling to one of their mothers’ ankles, and three of them skitter towards Catra, who crouches, bracing herself. With a flicker of something like fear, she realizes they’re all more than twice the size they were when she last saw them a few months ago.

“Remember nice pincers!” Perfuma calls, stopping one from crawling into the river. “We use nice pincers with Auntie Catra.”

Catra scoops up all three, holding them tightly against her chest. They like that, she’s learned - though in their position she would be halfway to the castle by now. True to form, all three of them giggle, nuzzling her chest and face.

“I’m surprised they remember me,” Catra laughs. Two of them start to squirm, so Catra lets them down. The third one clings to her. 

“We’re very loyal,” Scorpia replies. “Good job using nice pincers!” she says to the two who have skittered away. She scoops them up expertly, holding them under one arm. “Once you make a friend with a Scorpion, you have a friend for life.” 

Perfuma conjures a large basket of vines, which three of the baby scorpions scramble into. Scorpia uses her free arm to pick up the one who is still rolling around in the sand, while the one in Catra’s arms seems content where she is as they make their way to the castle. 

It’s nice talking about something that isn’t the wedding. Catra never thought she would take to being around children, but the little one curls up in her arms as the children in Perfuma’s basket wave, and she finds herself laughing with genuine joy.

When they reach the castle gardens, the scorpion in Catra’s arms starts to squirm, reaching her tiny claws toward a pink and yellow flower patch. Catra yelps, struggling to hold onto her. 

“She loves flowers,” Perfuma says, smiling and stroking the shell on top of her daughter’s head. “But she’s still too little to be around a garden as nice as this one. Not enough impulse-control with those pincers yet.” Catra chuckles at the image of this brood in one of the castle greenhouses.

They set the baby scorpions loose in one of the smaller courtyards. Perfuma makes vines sprout from the grass and Catra watches, amused, as the the children flock to snip off bits and pieces. 

After a while, Catra looks up to see Adora watching her from the other end of the courtyard. Folding her arms and leaning on the doorframe, Adora watches the scene with a smile that brings a flush to Catra’s cheeks. Catra looks down, laughing as one of the children log-rolls to her feet, waving a shredded leaf in her tiny claw. 

-

The first planet they visited after the war was dry and deserted. They touched down on a flat, barren surface, with breathable air but no sign of life. In every direction, rocks and sand and dust from old bones stretched to a horizon with an unnervingly dark sky. Bow assured Catra that it was “much prettier on the inside, but definitely more dangerous.” 

She-Ra, having transformed before they landed, walked down the gangplank with an uncharacteristically nervous demeanor. She didn’t meet anyone’s gaze, just stepped down to the surface and looked around, confused and unsure. Tentatively, she touched the gravel surface with the tip of her sword.

“I’m sorry,” she said, so quietly that only Catra could hear. “The Heart isn’t activating. I don’t know what to do.”

“Take your time,” said Catra. “We have all day - whatever that means on this planet.” She was hoping for a smile, but Adora didn’t respond. Instead she took a few more steps, fingering the hilt of her sword, pushing rocks with the tip of her boot. 

“Let’s give her some space,” Bow muttered to Glimmer.

Catra hung back, but not too far, watching as She-Ra raised her sword, touched it to the ground, whispered a few words under her breath. Eventually Catra approached her.

“What if,” She-Ra whispered. Her form flickered. “What if the Heart didn’t come with us? What if I can’t use it anymore? What if this is all for nothing?”

“Hey,” Catra said. “I have an idea.” She-Ra’s form flickered again; Catra rested a hand on her forearm and She-Ra solidified. Catra smiled. “Trust me, okay?”

She-Ra’s expression softened. “Always.”

“Good.” Without another word, Catra seized She-Ra by the arms and pulled her into a long kiss. She-Ra gasped but relaxed into it. Catra smiled into the kiss as she felt the tell-tale warmth of magic blooming in front of her. When she opened her eyes, She-Ra was glowing, the ground around her feet already sprouting soft, lavender grass.

Catra couldn’t help her smirk as She-Ra, her blush unmistakable even under the Heart’s glow, drove her sword into the ground.

“So,” Bow muttered to Catra as a wave of magic swept across the planet in every direction. “Are you going to have to do that every time, or…”

-

Two days before the wedding, the princesses hold their longest, most well-attended netball tournament yet. Two courts are set up side-by-side. In one, players take the complex set of rules very seriously: rotating servers, setting clear boundaries, choosing a neutral person as the referee, even paying attention to player positioning and the number of times the ball touches hands before it crosses the net. 

The other court is absolute chaos.

Catra and Adora start on the rules-heavy side, which makes Adora happy. Their biggest challenge is finding a neutral referee. Frosta, despite her insistence that she is good at objectivity, is too invested in seeing Catra lose. Micah doesn’t understand the game. Entrapta is good at remembering a concrete rule-system but does not care enough about the game to focus on it for more than a few minutes. Wrong Hordak doesn’t like to call anyone out. Eventually, Spinerella steps in for a few matches until she and Netossa play, at which point Perfuma takes over. 

Adora gets surprisingly competitive, which is always a joy to watch, her face flushed and streaked with sweat, her eyes narrowed in concentration. They work together without speaking, anticipating and playing off each other so naturally that it’s almost effortless. They were like that as cadets too. Even their fights during the war played out like a smoothly choreographed dance, each of them unconsciously, instinctively in tune with the other.

They lost their synchrony for a time after Catra joined the rebellion. The process of re-calibrating their relationship was slow, full of setbacks and false starts. Catra spent more than one night worrying that they would never get back what they had. They did, of course. Now, they grin with delight as they work together to take down every last princess, just as they had planned to do since they were children. 

They take a break after the match against Netossa and Spinerella. Someone brings them water and they sit under a tree, watching the chaos unfold at the other court. 

Double Trouble is holding their own as a one-person team, mostly by changing forms so quickly that even a group of three can’t keep up with them. On the other side of the net, Frosta spikes the ball - literally, small spikes of ice spring out of it - and a perfect likeness of Scorpia shatters it with her tail. Double Trouble transforms again, shrinking and sprouting pointed ears as the real Scorpia serves the ball with the blunt end of her tail. Raising her eyebrows, Catra watches herself leap onto the net, balance for a moment while cackling, and impale the ball on her claws. Hissing, she backflips to the ground.

“Overkill,” the real Catra calls. 

Double Trouble bows. “I aim for authenticity.” 

Adora laughs, and Catra shoulder-checks her. Double Trouble twirls in place; suddenly Wrong Hordak is flinging the ball over the net with a flourish that has the real Wrong Hordak clapping in delight.

There isn’t a start or end point to matches, not even a system of tagging in for players. People simply join, leave, or swap sides as they feel like it. Catra teams up with Double Trouble while Adora watches.

There’s a great moment where Double Trouble - as Scorpia - links their pincers to give Catra a platform to spring from. With their boost, she jumps more than thirty feet in the air, where she kicks the ball so hard that the other team shrieks and dives out of the way, with Glimmer actually teleporting off the court. The ball creates a small crater in the dirt where it lands. Catra and Double Trouble - back to their original form - laugh so hard they both collapse.

“You’re so much more _fun_ now that you’re a princess.” Double Trouble grins at Catra, not bothering to stand even as the ball bounces back to their side. Catra gapes. The ball rolls away, unnoticed.

“I am _not_ a princess,” she says. The audacity! And here she thought they were becoming friends.

“Oh honey,” Double Trouble shifts into She-Ra, before picking up the ball and serving it. “You’re marrying _She-Ra_. You count.”

Catra feels her face flush as Glimmer all but sobs with laughter. 

A while later, Catra is about to take a break when she notices one of the palace guards speaking to Glimmer. Catra furrows her brow, wondering if she should be involved in whatever that is. Glimmer looks at her, her gaze soft, and Catra’s stomach clenches as she realizes what’s happening. She leaves the court, feeling her body tense, her heart pound, and her feet carry her in Glimmer’s direction as if on autopilot. 

“They’re here,” Catra says, her voice a hoarse whisper, “aren’t they?” 

Glimmer nods.

-

After last year’s festival, Catra spent several weeks mulling over her invitation to Halfmoon. Eventually while watching Adora, Bow, and Glimmer make plans for their big trip to Salineas, she decided it couldn’t be worse than staying alone at Bright Moon while everyone else attended the Royal Wedding. She sent a message to Princess Saz in secret, just in case.

Her response arrived faster than expected, and in a much longer message. Catra read it while she, Adora, Glimmer, and Bow were having a picnic on the lawn. Their laughter and chatter faded into the background as she scanned the message, blinked, shook her head, and read it again. Phrases shifted and scrambled in front of her eyes: _delighted to have you - you should know - apologize if this breaches a boundary - no obligation if you do not wish to make contact - in our records, we were able to find -_

Melog’s head rested against her leg. Catra recognized her own distress when she saw their mane trembling. She scratched behind their ears, trying to keep her breathing slow.

“Hey,” Adora said. Catra gasped and jumped, which caught Bow and Glimmer’s attention. “Are you okay?” 

“I,” Catra said, looking between the three of them. She had to ask a question, but she knew it was going to be one of those things that earned her a look of pity, of vicarious grief, a poor-little-abused-Horde-child expression that tended to drop the temperature of whatever space she was in. Catra took a deep breath. “What’s a grandmother?”

Glimmer gasped.

-

The Halfmoon delegation meets them in the throne room, just like they did last year. This group, however, is much larger. Princess Saz and her son, now a head taller than the last time he was here, are flanked by guards and attendants. A few small clumps of Magicats stand around them, some with children and some without, all of them looking around, shading their eyes, whispering to each other. Catra swallows hard.

Standing alone on the edge of the group is a short, gray-haired woman with soft, gold eyes that fill with tears when she sees Catra. Catra’s face grows hot and her hands start to shake. 

“Hello,” Catra says, rubbing the back of her neck. They’ve written to each other several times since they met, but she’s still not sure what to do. “Its. Um. It’s good to see you. Again.”

Catra pretends not to notice Bow stifling a squeak as the woman steps forward to wrap Catra in a warm embrace. Her smell pulls at something deep inside her, at memories so degraded that, as hard as she’s tried, Catra can’t match them to anything as tangible as words or images. Catra realizes, after a moment, that both she and her grandmother are purring.

“It’s good to see you too, my heart,” Catra’s grandmother whispers. Catra squeezes her eyes shut against a wave of tears. 

When they break, Catra is unsurprised to see that Bow, Glimmer, and Adora are all crying. 

“These are my friends,” Catra says, gesturing around her. “Bow. Queen Glimmer. My fiancee, Adora, also known as She-Ra. Guys, this is…” Catra swallows. “My grandmother.”

“Mia,” the old woman says, bowing to Glimmer and nodding at Bow. They smile at her through their tears as Catra’s insides twist and curl on themselves. She’s not sure she’ll ever be used to this. Mia turns and clasps one of Adora’s hands in both of her own. “You, of course, may call me ‘Grandma’ if you feel comfortable. I have heard so much about you.”

“Hi,” says Adora, clearly nervous. “And. Thank you. It’s. It’s nice to meet you in person.”

“People in my home are talking about She-Ra all the time these days,” Mia smiles. “‘Did you hear she did this?’ ‘Did you hear she did that?’ ‘Yes,’ I tell them, ‘and did you hear she’s engaged to my granddaughter? They saved the world together.’ I think some people are getting tired of hearing that but,” Mia shrugs. “Too bad for them.”

Adora and Catra laugh. Mia lets go of Adora’s hand, looking from her to Catra and back again.

“You are a very lucky woman,” Mia says to Adora.

Adora smiles, blushing. “Yeah. I know.”

They give Mia a tour. Catra tries to imagine telling her teenage self that someday she would show her grandmother - the last remnant of her family - around the castle at Bright Moon. Her home. Thinking about it for too long makes her dizzy. 

They drink tea in a courtyard, watching Scorpia and Perfuma’s children wreak havoc on a patch of weeds that Catra suspects was created specifically for that purpose. They aren’t old enough to walk on two legs, but they’re _fast_ and surprisingly strong. They crawl over each other, entangle themselves in piles of flailing limbs. Perfuma and Scorpia laugh before disentangling them, expertly dodging snapping claws and tiny swinging tails. One of them falls asleep on Perfuma’s shoulder.

“This is both the cutest and most terrifying thing I have ever seen in my _life,”_ says Bow, watching Scorpia scoop three more squealing scorpions out of the weeds.

-

On her second day in Halfmoon, Catra visited a park with her grandmother. Tall stone poles lined the perimeter, topped with glowing blue and lavender orbs that cast a soft, ethereal light over everything. In the center of park stood a tall and intricate statue of several Magicats playing instruments that Catra recognized from the Magicat homeworld. (It seemed strange to her that the people of Halfmoon had preserved traditional Magicat music but not sports.) Kittens of all shapes, sizes and colors battled to reach the top of the tallest player’s head. 

Mia seemed to enjoy watching them, but Catra couldn’t look for too long without thinking of her and Adora climbing and racing around the Fright Zone. She kept dwelling on what could have been - what would _not_ have been - if she’d grown up with her own family.

“I always meant to take you here,” Mia said, tears in her eyes. Both of them did a lot of crying during Catra’s visit. “You used to love the structure in your hometown. You almost always won, even though you were usually the smallest kitten playing.” 

Catra smiled, a weak, flimsy smile. She was glad, in a way, that she had never visited Halfmoon before. The smell of her Grandmother triggered shadows and echoes of memory that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. It helped that the city didn’t do the same.

Their kinship felt fragile and terrifying, much like reuniting with Adora had. Catra didn’t want to talk about life in the Horde or the things she had done, afraid of hurting Mia. Yet, the story emerged, gradual and fragmented. It came out through her reaction to being touched, her unfamiliarity with Magicat foods or customs or even universal Etherian concepts like “parade.” It came out through her response to someone mentioning the “weird reality incident” that had, for the people of Halfmoon, triggered and fixed itself without explanation.

On her third night in Halfmoon, Catra woke up panicking from one of the worst nightmares she’d had in a long time. She doesn’t remember the dream itself or what she told her grandmother, but the incident breached something between them. Mia sang to her, a soft tune that pulled at Catra’s insides, dredging up feelings and sounds and sensations buried underneath a lifetime of heartbreak and fury. Nestled in Mia’s embrace, burying her face in the fur on her shoulder, Catra felt her grandmother purring and realized _we’re going to be okay_. 

-

They have a formal dinner for wedding guests the night before the ceremony. This is a Magicat tradition: Catra and Adora sit together at one end of a long table covered in their favorite foods, while listening to people telling funny and heartwarming stories about them. It’s unnerving but surprisingly fun. Bow and Glimmer stand up first, and Adora grips Catra’s hand under the table. 

“We met Adora,” Bow begins, “when we captured her in the Whispering Woods and took her to Bright Moon as our prisoner. Well, we tried to.” Several people chuckle, including Adora. 

Catra has heard bits and pieces of this story before. It’s fun hearing the whole version, especially when Glimmer raises her palms and squawks, _“I didn’t know being a princess was contagious!”_ The entire room laughs, including Catra until she notices Double Trouble watching her. They sip their wine and pointedly raise their eyebrows. Catra looks away, blushing and scowling.

Bow mentions the time when Adora zapped an iguana with her sword while trying to learn how to heal. (“If anyone sees a rainbow winged lizard with a horn on its head, probably able to talk, maybe still in Plumeria, let us know, will you?”) 

Glimmer talks about the first time she and Adora met Bow’s dads, the day they both learned how _terrible_ Adora is at acting. ( _“I’m a triple ma-_ jor. _Also I teach, unless that’s not a thing students do?”)_ Catra laughs so hard that tears stream down her cheeks.

There are sweet moments too, like the number of times Adora has risked her life to save a village; the way she took the time to say hi to every child who wanted to meet her, even during the war; how she was willing to give up She-Ra in order to disable the Heart of Etheria. They talk about her passion, her kindness, her courage. By the end, they are both crying, as is Adora and pretty much everyone else.

“We are both so proud to call you our friend,” says Glimmer, her voice shaking so hard she can barely finish the sentence. “But more than that. We are proud - and honored - to call you our family.”

“Come here!” Bow cries, flinging his arms open. The room applauds as the three of them embrace. Catra smiles, taking a sip of her drink, but before she knows it, she’s been pulled in too.

“This is a Best Friend Squad hug,” Bow whispers to her. “No getting out of it.” They sit down, all four of them wiping their eyes. 

The residual murmur of voices immediately silences when Mia stands up. 

“Some of you know who I am,” she smiles, looking around. “The rest of you can probably guess who I am by looking at me. I want to tell you a story.” 

Catra’s hand finds Adora’s under the table. Adora laces their fingers together, rubbing her thumb back and forth over Catra’s knuckles.

“I have lived in the underground city of Halfmoon my whole life,” says Mia. “For a time, it was in fashion to move above ground, but I preferred to stay where I was, even when my daughter and her spouse invited me to live with them on the surface. I visited them, of course, but my home was my home and I didn’t want to leave it.” 

Catra has tried to imagine what life was like in the small Magicat village on the surface. Even with the photographs, she can’t conjure anything like real memories. 

“One day, my daughter surprised me with the news that she was expecting a baby, and we decided that I would stay with them for a while after the child was born. Newborn kittens are…” Mia laughs softly. “They require a lot of attention. I was happy to do it. But, more than a month before my daughter’s due date, I received an urgent message that the baby was on its way. This was…” Mia takes a deep breath. “For a Magicat, being born that early is…somewhat dangerous. Some babies make it. Some…don’t.”

Catra has heard the abridged version of this story before. She looks down at the table, unwilling to meet anyone’s gaze. 

“I rushed to their village as quickly as I could. When I arrived, my daughter was in the hospital. She was alright, they told me, just tired. The baby was alive, but weak. There was still no guarantee that she would make it. The healers had put her in a special box with a spell on it to help her breathe.” 

People around the table are watching her, so Catra tries to keep her expression neutral. She hadn’t expected to feel this _exposed_. 

Mia pauses to take a long, slow breath. “When I first saw my granddaughter, she was very small. I could have cradled her in my hands if the healers had let me. She was sleeping at first, but eventually she opened her little eyes and looked at me. She couldn’t do that, the healers told me, she couldn't see very far yet. But she looked at me. I saw those beautiful blue and gold eyes, and I said to the healer, I said to my daughter and her spouse: ‘Don’t you worry about this one.’ She...” Mia takes a trembling breath, and her eyes fill with tears. Her voice cracks as she says: “She is a survivor.”

It’s unnerving, hearing this level of detail for the first time in a room full of people who used to be her enemies. Most of them are crying; meanwhile Catra is trying to shake the feeling that they're all staring at her naked body. Adora squeezes her hand, smiling even as tears spill down her cheeks. Idiot.

Mia has funny stories, too: the time when two-year-old Catra scratched a healer across their face and angrily demanded fish sticks; the day she escaped onto the roof and scratched off a sizable hole before anyone realized she wasn’t napping; the way she used to beat kittens more than twice her size to the top of the play structure and hold her position there for an impressively long time. 

Catra tries to picture this version of herself in this life that she had, but it’s no use. She can’t conjure images or sounds, only the deep aching emptiness that she’s been fighting against her whole life. Mia is here now, bringing that part of Catra with her, and that will have to be enough.

“I loved visiting my granddaughter,” Mia says, “and she loved it too. But…she would always cry when it was time for me to leave. She begged me to stay, every time.” Catra’s insides clench and she looks down while Adora squeezes her hand. “The last time we saw each other, I said to her: ‘Don’t you worry, my heart. I’ll come back before you know it.’” 

The room falls silent. Mia takes another shaking breath as more tears pool in her eyes. 

“I will not dwell on what happened after that. It was a dark time for many. My people took refuge underground, and I- well, that is not a story for weddings.” Catra’s fingers are trembling; Adora squeezes her hand so hard it almost hurts. “But then, several months ago, I got a message from Princess Saz herself. It was like a miracle had happened. The Princess told me that my granddaughter - who was pronounced dead in an attack more than twenty years ago - was every bit the survivor I always knew her to be.” 

Mia is crying openly now, her voice trembling and distorted. She takes a moment to regain her composure. She says a few more things about love and family, but Catra barely processes them, distracted as she is by Perfuma and Scorpia quietly sobbing in each other’s arms, Adora wrapping an arm tightly around her shoulders and pulling her close, Netossa giving her a very solemn nod. 

Catra stands up on trembling legs to hug her grandmother, fierce and tight and long. She almost remembers not wanting her grandmother to leave; she feels echoes of it now in the certainty that she will never, ever let her go. Not again.

“I’m so glad,” Glimmer says as Catra and Mia finally sit down, “that we went first.” Bow nods vigorously.

-

Their first full day on Mara’s ship after the war, Catra, Adora, Bow, and Glimmer spent hours on the bridge exchanging childhood stories. Catra sprawled out on the floor with her head in Adora’s lap, her tail swishing from side to side.

Glimmer and Bow described a time when she teleported to the roof to get his arrow, but ran out of magic and got stuck. Bow, who had previously been too scared to meet Glimmer’s mother, had to find the Queen, introduce himself, and tell her what had happened. Catra and Adora talked about the day they covered Kyle’s goggles with ink, realizing too late that the ones they _thought_ were his in fact belonged to the Force Captain visiting to supervise their progress. All four of them laughed until their sides hurt and they gasped for breath, their faces hot, their cheeks damp.

“This is nice,” said Glimmer. “Adora never used to talk about growing up in the Horde. Not...good things, anyway.”

Adora looked away. “It was hard to talk about. And anyway…” she ducked her head, blushing. “Pretty much all of my _good_ memories of the Horde include Catra. It was painful for me to talk about them. But now...” She gave Catra the soft smile that always made Catra’s stomach swoop. Catra purred as Adora ran her fingers through her hair. 

“Aw,” Bow and Glimmer squealed in unison. Adora and Catra looked at each other.

“It’s going to be like this for a while,” Catra said. “Isn’t it?”

Adora shrugged. “Probably.”

-

Catra wakes up much earlier than expected on the day of her wedding. When she fails to go back to sleep, she sneaks onto the balcony to watch the morning light rise over the mountains. Eventually Adora joins her, and they spend the dawn hours in silence, holding each other as the first groups of people start to trickle onto the castle grounds.

“Right,” Adora laughs, her face pink. “I almost forgot. It’s the festival today.”

Catra kisses her.

Bow and Glimmer join them later, bringing steaming mugs of tea, fresh pastries, and enough energy to power a small city for a month. Catra and Adora exchange weak smiles as they are paraded around the room to shouts of _“Wedding Day! Wedding Day!”_

Bow and Glimmer fuss over every detail of their appearance, from makeup to shoes to the way Catra’s cape drapes over her shoulder. Catra puts up with it until she sees Glimmer coming at her with a hairbrush and a determined look in her eye.

“No,” Catra says, holding up one hand. Glimmer stops. “Nope. You are my Queen, and my friend, and I have a lot of respect for you, but you will touch me with that thing _over_ _my dead body.”_

Glimmer rolls her eyes. “You are so dramatic.”

It’s considered bad luck for future-spouses to be apart for too long on their wedding day. Like most Etherian traditions, it feels silly, but Catra doesn’t mind not leaving Adora’s side. They take turns calming each other down: Catra running her fingers through Adora’s hair while Adora recites the ceremony guidelines for the fiftieth time, Adora wrapping her arms around Catra’s waist when Catra grows quiet and fidgety. 

As Catra is wondering, again, if she should have found a gift more meaningful than a silly glove, Adora pulls her backwards into a soft embrace. Catra nuzzles Adora’s neck, purring. They stay this way until a high-pitched squeal interrupts them. Catra turns to see Bow and Glimmer watching them, clinging to each other with tears in their eyes. Catra scoffs loudly, rolling her eyes so they won’t notice her blush.

“Sorry to interrupt,” says Glimmer as Bow sniffles. “But...it’s time. Are you ready?”

Catra’s heart pounds. She and Adora exchange a look.

They hold the ceremony in a small, round chamber in a back wing of the castle. The room is simple and beautiful, lined with soft cushions and windows that stretch floor-to-ceiling. It overlooks a massive waterfall, which creates a soft backdrop of peaceful white noise.

Glimmer does something called “officiating” where she greets everyone, tells them why they’re here (because apparently that needs to be said?), and leads the ritual part of the ceremony. Bow plays the guitar at certain times. He’s gotten very good at it; apparently all that idle time on the ship between planets did as much good for his musical skills as it did for Adora’s map-making.

The number of princesses in attendance would have sent teenage Catra into a rage spiral. Scorpia and Perfuma share one of the larger cushions; Netossa and Spinerella share another. Frosta is next to them, working very hard not to cry. Mermista and Sea Hawk sit together at the very edge of the room, behind Catra’s back where they can see Adora’s face. Melog is here, of course, and Swift Wind. Double Trouble, as themself, lounges on a long, red cushion, smirking for reasons that Catra does not want to think about. Entrapta spends the whole ceremony taking notes on a tracker pad. Mia sits behind Adora’s back, smiling at Catra the whole time. Micah and Castaspella sit side-by-side behind Bow. Both of them cry at least once, watching Glimmer lead.

There are small recitations, one with group participation. Everyone holds hands at one point. There’s a moment of silence. Catra takes both of Adora’s hands, suddenly noticing that Adora has been crying for a while. The realization sends hot tears down her own cheeks. 

This is happening. This is _really happening_. Adora is here and Catra is here and they are doing this. 

“Now,” says Glimmer with a wry smile. “If you both can _stop crying_ long enough to exchange your tokens,” several people in the room chuckle, including Adora. Catra joins them. “We’ll continue.”

Catra’s hands are shaking so hard that the act of taking off her glove is slower and more awkward than it should have been. Catra is about to apologize when she sees Adora fumbling with her pin in the same way. They smile at each other, grateful that no one else seems to have noticed.

Adora fingers the pin for a moment, her cheeks flushed. 

“I want to be with you, Catra,” her voice, though soft and trembling, fills the room, and already Catra is crying again. “I knew from the first moment I met you that I wanted to be with you forever.” Adora swallows, taking a deep breath. “But first, I had to learn to let myself want things. It was hard, and it was scary, and I hurt people in the process.”

Tears prickle the corners of her eyes as she looks around. “I would not be the person I am today without the people in this room, their openness, their kindness, their willingness to teach me things I didn’t understand. Those of us who grew up in the Horde...we had to unlearn a lot of things. We had to learn how to be good friends, how to be good people.” 

Entrapta and Scorpia are nodding. Perfuma, teary-eyed, buries her face in Scopria’s shoulder. 

“No one,” Adora’s voice cracks. “Has worked harder at that than you, Catra. No one has worked so hard, for so long, has made themself so vulnerable over and over again, has tried and learned and tried some more. I know who you were and I know who you are and I see how far you’ve come. I see you, Catra. I love you. Just like I always have.”

Adora takes a moment to regain her composure as Catra wipes her eyes on her sleeve.

“I love you, Catra,” Adora looks into her eyes with an intensity that makes Catra’s spine weak. “You are smart and funny and creative and _incredibly_ strong. You are loyal and compassionate and fiercely protective of your friends. You are everything I want. I want to be with you. I want to choose you, every time, for the rest of our lives. You look out for me, and I look out for you. It doesn’t matter what happens to us, as long as we have each other.”

Catra looks up, a small smile on her face, her eyebrows raised in a silent question.

Adora hooks her pin on Catra’s shirt. “I promise.”

The pin is heavier than expected. Catra looks at it for a moment, breathing slowly, trying to regain her voice.

“I remember when I first realized I loved you,” she says. “We were six years old and you called Force Captain Octavia a ‘dumbface.’” Adora laughs. “We ran away, holding hands, and I knew that I never wanted anyone else in my life the way I wanted you.” 

The chamber under the First One’s temple knew that; she’d realized. It picked that memory deliberately. _We see you,_ it said. _We know you._ Then it tried to kill her. Then it drove her away. She will never forgive the First Ones for that any more than she will forgive herself for falling for it.

“You are strong, talented, brave, and kind. You have way more integrity than most people - I know I usually use other words to describe that, but it’s true.” Several people laugh. “You care about people, so much, and you never give up on anything. Not even,” Catra swallows. “Not even on me.” Her voice cracks. “Not even after I gave up on myself. After everything I did, you still believed I could be better. You brought me out of a very dark place. You made me want to be a better person. Your kindness, your patience, and your compassion taught me how to be a good friend. And now, I hope I can be a good wife.”

She takes a deep breath against more tears. She’s not sure why she isn’t embarrassed. “You deserve love too,” Catra says, looking Adora in the eye. “I hope you always remember that. You matter more than what you can do for the world, and you will always deserve love. I love you, Adora. I always have. You look out for me and I look out for you. It doesn’t matter what the world does, as long as we stay together.” She pauses. “I promise.”

Catra chose this glove because it’s slightly too big for her hand and made of fairly stretchy material. Even though both their palms are sweating, it slips onto Adora’s hand easily. Adora smiles even though tears are streaming down her cheeks. 

Glimmer wipes her eyes. “I think we all need a minute here.” The room laughs and Catra can hear more than one person quietly sobbing. Glimmer wipes her eyes with a handkerchief, clears her throat and says, “I, Queen Glimmer of Bright Moon, declare in the presence of their closest friends and family that Catra and Adora of Bright Moon are now officially wedded wives.”

Adora and Catra crash together in a kiss that is long and fierce and passionate and warm while the room erupts. There’s a quick flash of something bright in front of her face; Catra opens her eyes just enough to see Adora’s eyes flicker.

“Really?” Catra whispers, grinning.

Adora blushes. “Shut up.”

Then it’s all hugs and crying and more hugs and congratulations and big, sweeping group hugs that knock the wind out of her. Catra’s feet leave the ground more than once, and she’s pretty sure Adora’s do too. Their arms linked, they follow the crowd down a hallway in a chaotic sort of procession led by Castaspella. 

Catra leans close to Adora’s ear and whispers, “This is happening.” Adora grins, blushing.

They reach a set of double doors. Casta slips outside ahead of the group, announcing something to the festival-goers which Catra can’t hear over the excited murmur and chatter around her. Then suddenly, the doors are flung open and a massive crowd of villagers greets them with a cheer so loud it’s almost a roar. The next few minutes pass by in a blur of arms and voices and laughter, Catra and Adora clinging to each other like they’ve been flung into a raging sea. 

Somehow they are guided to a corner of the lawn, where they shelter underneath a massive tree with white lights dangling from the branches. The shade is nice; plus, well-wishers can only approach them in small groups. Someone puts a glass of wine in each of their hands, and Melog rubs Catra’s shin with their face. Catra kneels to scratch behind their ears, causing several villagers to squeal with delight.

Catra is grateful for the people - mainly Castaspella, Bow, Scorpia, and Spinerella - who circumvent the crowds in order to bring them food and drinks, because there is no way she or Adora is leaving this spot for a long time. Plumerians drape flower garlands on their heads and shoulders; children from Bright Moon show off their She-Ra and Catra wedding dolls. Salinean families come to congratulate them and Catra is carefully polite, breathing deeply through her pounding heart as Melog trembles and whines. If anyone recognizes her from the siege on Salineas, they don’t show it. 

Prince Tao hugs their knees, while the crowd coos and giggles. Princess Saz clears her throat, giving him a stern look. “Oh yeah!” he whispers, before awkwardly getting down on one knee. He’s so cute that even Catra can’t help but laugh. 

“The City-State of Halfmoon offers its congratulations to Princesses Adora and Catra of Bright Moon in their wedding.” Catra surreptitiously looks around to see if Double Trouble overheard that. She doesn’t see them, which of course means nothing.

About a millisecond after his solemn declaration, Prince Tao leaps to his feet and climbs up Catra’s body, standing on her shoulder and reaching for the lights in the tree. “Are these real?”

“Thank you, Prince Tao of Halfmoon,” Adora says, keeping her voice steady as Catra holds the small prince around his waist to keep him from falling. He starts poking at one of the lights. “And yes. They’re also fragile, so, please be careful with them.”

“Hey,” Catra says to the prince, as if she’s just thought of a great new idea. “Do you want to meet my cool alien friend Melog?” Melog looks up, interested.

Tao shrieks in delight, spinning around so fast that he skews one of Catra’s flower crowns, pushing it across her face. The sickly sweet smell, already cloying in this small space, tickles her nose. 

“Melog!” Tao dives from Catra’s shoulder, landing on top of Melog, who does not seem to mind the impact. They mewl at him and he rolls off, giggling. 

Catra pushes the flower crowns off her face, sniffling and rubbing her nose. The flowers are nice on their own, but in this concentration and this small space, it’s enough to make her nauseous. She wants to ask if she can take one of them off, but the person draping yet another garland over her shoulder looks so excited that Catra can’t bring herself to say anything. 

Wrong Hordak - who had been watching Scorpia and Perfuma’s children during the ceremony - greets them with a loud, delighted hug that sweeps both of them off their feet. One garland falls off and Catra ignores it. He talks for a long time until Bow, after giving each of the brides a fresh glass of water, guides him away. 

About a hundred people ask if they can pet Melog, who doesn’t seem to mind. Lance and George stop by, reminiscing about their own wedding (a lot of the married couples do that), and even Huntara shows up, on the arm of a burly, bearded woman with tattoos on her shoulder. Catra doesn’t remember what she or Adora said, but she hopes it was cool.

Someone brings a bowl of incense and Catra can’t take it anymore. She turns away and sneezes three times in rapid succession. 

“The smell,” she whispers, as Adora rests a hand on her shoulder. “It’s so intense. Someone needs to do something before I throw up or pass out.”

As if on cue, Castaspella appears, taking gifts for the “collection table,” which apparently was already a thing. “These gifts are lovely!” she cheerily reminds the crowd, “but please be sure to leave them in the designated space so they don’t overwhelm the brides.” Catra heaves a sigh of relief, taking another swig of wine as Adora giggles behind her hand. 

The flow of well-wishers shows no sign of slowing, even when a band starts playing in the middle of the lawn. When the combined efforts of Bow and Castaspella fail to disperse the crowd, Glimmer stands up to formally invite everyone to join her in a “celebratory dance.” Frosta and Netossa manage to sneak them away to the edge of the woods while everyone is distracted. 

“Take as long as you need,” Frosta whispers, glancing over her shoulder again even though there’s no one around. “We’ll cover for you.”

“Thanks,” Adora says.

Netossa gives them both a soft smile and a nod. “Welcome to married life.” She grins. “It’s the best.”

They walk through the Whispering Woods, sometimes hand-in-hand, sometimes with their elbows linked, sometimes with their arms around each other as if to make every possible inch of them touch. They’re quiet for most of it, listening to the wind in the leaves and the chittering animals, watching tiny sparks of magic floating on an ever-shifting breeze. When it all becomes too much, they stop where they are and hug so tightly that their bodies seem to become one. Catra buries her face in Adora’s shoulder, breathing in her scent, thinking: _this. Only this._

They stand, nose-to-nose and forehead-to-forehead, for a long time. Catra can feel the bugs around them. She swishes her tail half-heartedly to drive them away but otherwise doesn’t care.

“We did it,” Adora whispers. “We’re married.” Catra laughs in that giddy way she did all the time after they first got together. 

She wants to say how much this means to her, how much Adora means to her, but she doesn’t have the words right now and she's almost certain that Adora understands. Because she means that much to Adora, too. She knows that now. They promised.

Instead, Catra cups Adora’s cheek with her palm and kisses her, just like she did on this very day six years ago. Adora lets out a contented sigh as she leans into it, her arms encircling Catra’s waist, Catra’s free arm on her shoulder blade. There’s magic in it, not just She-Ra or the Heart of Etheria, but a warm and powerful spark that sets every cell in her body alight. It’s everything she has always needed. Just them. Just here. Just this.

The Woods chirp and chatter around them, maybe glowing a little brighter, maybe whispering a little louder. Catra folds her arms loosely behind Adora’s neck, leaning in, kissing her like she’s never, ever going to stop. They break briefly, breathless and flushed, pressing their foreheads together. Adora’s hand, the one with the glove, caresses Catra’s hair and Catra purrs so hard she’s sure Adora can feel it. 

“I love you,” Adora whispers against her mouth. A spark ignites in Catra’s stomach and she captures Adora’s lips with her own. Neither of them speaks again for a long time.


	7. Year Seven

The seventh year, there is no Princess party. 

A few months in advance, Glimmer decides that this year’s festival will be for Etherians, by Etherians, and about Etherians, in part because the All-Princess Ball is taking place less than a month before Restoration Day, so most of the princesses will either be riding the euphoria from it or too tired to do anything formal. 

“Besides,” Glimmer says to Catra, “Etherians deserve to have a day of celebration that is just theirs. They earned this, too.”

She’s not wrong. Anyway, not having a formal princess event means that Catra and Adora can celebrate their first anniversary in relative peace.

Being married is different than Catra thought it would be. Everyone said it would be life-changing, and it is. But also...it isn’t. She and Adora spend their days almost exactly as they did before. Catra talks Glimmer through episodes of self-doubt and indecision, calls her out in private when she makes a mistake, and resists the urge to mention how much leading the Horde prepared her for this job. Adora makes maps, translates runes, Inspires Hope, and occasionally runs off to deal with a rogue Beast Island monstrosity that escaped from Dryl. 

There’s a quiet sort of comfort to their life now. It’s simple and understated. She and Adora are A Unit, always sitting next to each other, having meals together, consulting each other for big decisions. Not that they didn’t do all these things before, but it’s expected now, in an unspoken but obvious way.

There are moments where Catra is walking through the halls and the weight of the pin on her shirt will pull in just the right way, splitting her face into a silly smile before she can stop it The same thing happens when Adora takes Catra’s hand or touches her shoulder with Catra’s glove. It’s ridiculous and Catra would absolutely deny it if called out.

Except…maybe she wouldn’t. That’s how strange this whole thing is.

When it becomes too much, Catra retreats to her and Adora’s bedroom, the top of a spire, or - eventually - a newly redecorated chamber on the castle’s ground floor.

Mia has decorated her new bedroom with beautiful blue and lavender tapestries, draping them over the windows so that the daylight filters through them, casting everything in a soft glow reminiscent of Halfmoon’s crystalline light. 

Adora and Mia get along particularly well, which makes Catra’s insides feel warm and fuzzy. The first few times Adora calls Mia “Grandma,” Catra has to turn away to hide her face while Melog sprawls out on the floor, purring or humming or doing something else embarrassing and obvious. 

Mia teaches Adora how to make a hot drink with milk and honey and a collection of strange spices. Adora and the others don’t care for it, but Catra could drink it by the gallon. Adora surprises her with it from time to time, on rough days and busy days and normal days for no reason at all. 

She makes it again on the morning of their anniversary; Catra wakes up to the smell of it wafting from a cup nestled in Adora’s hands. Adora smiles at her, eager and delighted. They climb to the roof and watch the morning light slowly overtake the Whispering Woods. Hand in hand, they exchange memories, recent ones and distant ones, silly ones and poignant ones. They compare Princess Proms, because _of course_ they do; that’s who they _are_ now. 

“I got to dip _you_ this time,” Adora says for the eightieth time, a smug grin on her face. 

“Didn’t smash me through any ice pillars, though,” Catra says. Adora shoves her shoulder and they struggle for a moment, laughing. “All and all,” Catra says as Adora shifts her weight, “it was sort of disappointing. No heat bombs, no kidnapping, no one falling off a cliff…”

“We got to finish the dance, though.”

“True.”

In fact, the most dramatic thing that happened was the loud breakup between two teenage princes right outside one of the side doors. Catra suspects they didn’t realize how many people inside the hall could hear them. They spent the rest of the night glowering at each other from opposite ends of the hall. 

“If you ask me,” Catra gives a dramatic sigh. “The party on Eridani was _so much_ better.”

Adora’s face turns as red as Catra’s shirt. Catra smirks. 

“Scorpia put _way too much_ security on the coat check room,” she continues, as Adora buries her face in her hands. “How’s anyone supposed to have any fun if they can't sneak in there?”

“Stop it,” Adora’s voice is a muffled squeak. “ _Stop it._ Are you ever going to let that go?” 

“Never,” Catra says. “It’s too good.” Adora whimpers; Catra laughs and kisses the top of her head.

They find a lower tower to watch the festival unfold on the castle grounds. There are more attendees than ever: people from Dryl and the Kingdom of Snows, Halfmoon and the Crimson Waste (which is an official kingdom now, although Catra pities the person who calls Huntara a princess to her face).

“The world is so different now,” Adora whispers, watching a Salinean, a Magicat, a Plumerian, and a Faun play some kind of game involving a ball tied to the top of a pole by a long rope. Catra hums, squeezing her hand. Nearby, a small troupe of Etherians is putting on a magic show. Not sorcery or elemental magic or other weird princess magic. Just pure...magic, the kind Madame Razz uses without even noticing. 

Some of the children are playing She-Ra tag again. Catra points it out, snickering at the look on Adora’s face when a child shouts, “For the honor of Gray Skulls!” 

Two Magicat children join the game. Catra wonders how it can be any fun for them, being naturally faster and more agile than other Etherian children. One of them, a wiry child with splotches of white, black, and brown fur, pretends to trip and fall with a dramatic shout. When a lizard child taps him with the sword, he sighs melodramatically, then runs so slowly that Catra wonders how he’s fooling anyone. As soon as he gets bored of being She-Ra, he pounces and effortlessly tags a boy from Dryl.

Saz and her son are roaming the grounds, exploring the stands and stalls and games. Tao plunges into each activity with an enthusiasm that makes onlookers smile. Scorpia and Perfuma arrive sometime in midmorning, their children between them in a long, wavering line of swinging tails and grasping claws. Most of the festival-goers give them a wide berth.

The children look much more humanoid now, from their faces to their hair to their little legs. Some have more exoskeleton than others. One child is as pale as Scorpia; two have a darker skin tone to match Perfuma’s, and the rest fall somewhere in between. Everyone has curly or wavy hair in some shade of pale blond. It’s easy to tell them apart now. Catra picks out Flora - the one who snuggled in her arms when they arrived last year - almost immediately. 

“ _What_ are they wearing?” Adora whispers. Catra laughs. She does not have to ask what Adora is talking about. Each child has a cloth sleeve covering their tail and a matching set of mittens over their claws. 

“Entrapta made them,” Catra replies. “It’s so they can play with the other kids without…you know…paralyzing anyone or chopping someone’s limbs off.” Adora doesn’t look comforted. The children are too young to join any of the official activities, but Perfuma cordons off a section of the grounds, as she’s done in previous years, for young children to run and play freely. It takes a while to gain popularity - many of the families look unsure - but eventually they have an adorable crowd of toddlers of all races giggling and rolling around in soft grass and colorful flowers.

Watching them play sets something warm and glowing in the pit of Catra’s stomach. She smiles and looks sidelong at Adora, who is giggling behind her hand, eyes on the children. A question sits on the back of Catra’s tongue, something she’s been wanting to ask for a while now. She opens her mouth, her heart racing, then closes it. Not here. Not yet.

At midday they meet Bow and Glimmer for a picnic lunch on a secluded spot overlooking the river, the same place they had their impromptu picnic dinner three years ago. Melog lounges nearby.

Something is up with these two. Catra notices almost immediately even though Adora doesn’t seem to sense anything unusual. They’re blushing and sharing secret smiles in a way they haven’t done since right after the war ended. After the third time their fingers touch - Bow positively giggling - Catra figures it out.

“So,” she says, giving them a sly smile, “any news for us?” 

Bow ducks his head, grinning in a way that 100% confirms her theory even as Glimmer says, “Nothing…particularly exciting.” 

“You sure about that?” Catra raises her eyebrows.

Glimmer fixes her with a glare that simultaneously says _Don’t you dare say anything,_ and _How are you this freakishly smart?_ Catra recognizes it, having seen it in court on a near-monthly basis.

“I brought scones!” Bow shouts, his voice cracking. Catra smirks. She’s not sure what the secrecy is about, but she’s not going to push. They eat and chat and banter in that easy way that Force Captain Catra could never have imagined doing.

“I miss hanging out like this,” Glimmer sighs after a moment of relative silence. “We should do it more often.” Bow and Adora nod. “Maybe we could have another one of our sleepovers! It’s been such a long time. We could have sleeping bags and cake...”

“Yeah,” Catra scoffs, “because that went _so well_ last time.”

“Obviously we won’t have _chocolate_ cake,” Glimmer rolls her eyes. “I was thinking of having a sleepover in someone’s bedroom instead of the infirmary this time. It’s way more fun.”

“I wouldn’t know,” says Catra, her shrug dramatically nonchalant. “Because _someone_ tried to poison me last time.”

Glimmer throws a scone at her. Catra catches it and tosses half of it to Melog.

After lunch they put on cloaks and wander the grounds together. Catra doesn’t understand how they manage to pass unnoticed for so long, especially when Bow and Glimmer scream themselves hoarse over a netball match. Catra stays out of this one because none of the princesses are playing. (Not that she considers herself a princess; absolutely not. It’s more that she would feel the need to go easy on civilians, which is not as fun.) 

They find Mia enjoying a cup of spiced milk near a stand run by a Magicat with broad shoulders and fur such a deep gray it could almost be mistaken for blue. He greets them with a raised hand and passes Catra a steaming cup before she can think to ask. It smells and tastes so good that she actually starts purring after her first sip. Adora giggles, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing her head.

“Koshka makes better spiced milk than anyone else in the world,” Mia informs them. Koshka grins. 

“There is a trick to it.” His accent is different from anything Catra has ever heard. “I have kept it secret for many years, but I could make an exception for the Princess who saved the world.” He winks at Adora, who gasps. 

“How did you-“

“It is evident to anyone who is looking,” Koshka shrugs. “Luckily for you, few people are. I will not say anything.”

“I-“ Adora smiles, squeezing Catra’s shoulders. “Thank you.” 

Koshka bows his head. “Thank _you_.”

Someone organizes an all-Magicat netball match. Catra pretends to resist for a minute before eventually volunteering. It’s different than playing with the princesses; she has to actually follow the rules, but at least there’s no magic something-or-other ready to strike out of nowhere. She’s almost evenly matched in terms of speed and agility, which is not something she’s used to. Still, her team wins eventually - though it's dicey for a while. 

Adora cheers so loudly that Catra is certain someone’s going to recognize her. Sure enough, by the time the game ends, several awestruck Etherians have surrounded her.,

“Yep,” she says, pushing her hood back and giggling nervously. “Hi. It’s…it’s me. Hello there. Happy Restoration Day.” She gives Catra an apologetic smile. Catra laughs.

“You are such an idiot.”

Now that their cover is blown, Catra spends the rest of the afternoon with her wife (she has said the word “wife” more times in the past year than she had in her entire life before) greeting and chatting with festival goers. 

There’s a moment, late in the afternoon, when a giggling toddler runs toward Adora with her tiny hands in the air. Adora scoops her up and twirls her around while Catra watches, smiling, heat rising in her cheeks. She remembers Adora saying “I am never holding a baby ever again,” all those years ago, at the first ever Restoration Day gathering. She’s so different now. They're so different now. The world is so different now.

Adora sets down the little girl, who toddles toward her parents, still giggling. Catra notices the blush in Adora’s cheeks less than a second before their eyes meet. They hold each others’ gaze for a long moment, both of them flushed and breathless. A flicker of understanding passes between them and Catra knows that she does not have to say it out loud; she does not have to worry about the answer to her unasked question because Adora is feeling it too. _When you ask, I will say yes._

The festival lasts long into the night, even after the families with children leave. There’s a whole new generation now, people who have emerged into adulthood in the era of peace and magic. Someone clears a space for a dance party with musicians and dancers of every race imaginable. 

A few fire pits are built across the grounds. (Catra is almost positive she sees someone start one just by blowing on a pile of unlit kindling.) Several people hover marshmallows over them using magic as others chat and banter around them. Some people leave and start a campfire of their own in the neighboring village. The Whispering Woods come alive with the sound of songs and laughter. From the balcony, Catra listens, ears twitching, a small smile on her face. This is what this holiday should be.

“You coming?” 

Catra looks over her shoulder to see Adora, already in bed. She looks exhausted and ready to sleep. Catra smiles as a warm, familiar glow fills her from the inside. She crawls into Adora’s embrace, purring softly as their arms and legs twine together. 

In the morning, Glimmer holds a special session of court to announce what Catra has known for almost a full day: Glimmer and Bow are engaged to be married. The crowd, at first was quieter and more subdued than usual after a night of loud partying, erupts, filling the Queen’s chamber - soon to be called the Royal Chamber - with shouts and laughter and tears. Catra catches Adora’s look of astonishment and can’t help laughing.

“We wanted to wait to announce it,” Glimmer tells them later, “because I was the one who said that the festival should be about Etherians this year, not us. It felt wrong to announce my engagement during the festival after that.”

“We did tell my dads though,” says Bow. “I figured they would want to be told in person first.”

“Meanwhile,” Glimmer grins, rolling her eyes, “My dad hasn’t stopped crying since we told him this morning. I’m glad we waited.” She looks at Adora and her face falls. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you.”

“No,” Adora shakes her head vigorously. “No. Thank you for not telling me. I’m…so excited for you both, but…I would _not_ have had fun keeping that secret all day.” The group laughs, and she relaxes. She’s so pretty. Catra finds herself blushing for no reason at all. “I’m,” Adora’s eyes fill with tears. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Married-and-almost-married-best-friend-squad hug!” Bow shouts through tears that are already streaming down his cheeks. Catra sighs in exasperation, but even she is wiping her eyes when they let go. 

“What do you say,” Glimmer wipes her eyes, grinning, “to a celebratory sleepover tonight? We grab some cake from the kitchens - no chocolate - and camp out in one of our rooms like old times?”

Even as Catra is rolling her eyes, Melog is humming and rubbing their body against Glimmer’s ankle. Everyone laughs and they collapse into another hug.


	8. Later Years

Catra loses count of the years after a while. 

Memories of the Restoration Day festivals start to blend together, the world and its people growing and changing and growing and changing some more. There are setbacks and milestones, disasters and funny stories, turning points and new beginnings.

* * *

There’s the year of the rainstorm so harsh and so long that the entire festival is held under thick tents. 

The Salineans, of course, have a great time. Mermista creates a weird spinning monstrosity in the air, which people jump into _on purpose_ for some reason. They’re swept up and over a crest and deposited into a small, muddy pool on the other side. Catra feels nauseous just watching it. 

Princess Saz and Prince Tao are two of the only Magicats who come to the festival this year, and even they visit more out of courtesy than anything else. Mia does not leave the castle all day.

* * *

There’s the year when Scorpia and Perfuma’s children are old enough to participate in the festival activities for the first time. 

Like Scorpia, what they lack in dexterity, they make up for in brute strength and unwavering positivity. Every year, festival-goers get over their fear of these tiny scorpion children faster and faster. 

Flora spends part of an afternoon making flower-crowns for everyone. Of all the Scorpion children, she is the only one who already knows which runestone she will pick when the time comes.

* * *

There’s the year a well-known Magicat band sets up in one corner of the lawn and plays loud, cheerful jigs for most of the day. 

Catra recognizes a traditional dance that some of the older Magicats are doing. Mia spends a long time teaching Catra and Adora the steps, which they eventually manage with reasonable competence. Prince Tao turns out to be an amazing dancer. So is Double Trouble, who shifts into a Magicat of a different color with every new song. The day ends with several children from a variety of kingdoms - plus Sea Hawk - humming a Magicat tune or imitating a step of the dance as they make their way home.

* * *

There’s the year when Catra is pregnant. 

She is just starting to show, which is honestly a relief because there is no possible way Adora could keep this a secret all day. To Adora’s credit, she tries _very hard_ not to be overprotective. It’s very clear that she is trying. _Really_ trying. 

In fairness, Adora does have legitimate reason to worry because Catra herself was so premature. It’s natural to have some concern about carrying the baby to term. Catra feels it too, when she lets herself think about it for too long. She tries, instead, to focus on taking care of herself and the baby as Mia and the healers have instructed. She doesn’t play Netball this year, much to Adora’s poorly-concealed relief, and she spends a lot of time fielding questions from Scorpia and Perfuma’s children. 

She leaves the festival to go take a nap in the mid-afternoon. It’s nice to be able to slip out early without seeming rude. Catra stretches out on a blanket across the part of the bedroom floor where the daylight spills in a particularly comfortable way. She curls up and waits for Adora to bring her more spiced milk. All things considered, being pregnant isn’t so bad. 

(She’ll take those words back eventually, with hissing and a _lot_ of cursing. But that won’t be for a few more months.)

* * *

There’s the year Finn vomits all over themself in front of a crowd of admirers. 

Finn doesn’t seem upset or ill - this happens from time to time and Mia says it’s perfectly normal. It’s just particularly dramatic and humiliating when they’re surrounded by people from all over the world, many of whom have been looking forward to seeing She-Ra and her new family for months.

Apologizing profusely, Adora and Catra rush inside and scramble to change Finn’s clothes and clean their fur with a wetbrush. Finn coos, kicking their legs and smiling as if having a wonderful time. This, Mia has assured them before, is also normal. 

Adora and Catra consider putting them down for a nap, but by this point they are giggly and cheerful and very, very awake. Catra snuggles them against her chest; they smile and coo and reach toward her breast so suddenly that she yelps.

“Are you,” she asks, incredulous, “hungry?”

“But,” Adora sputters as Finn reaches again. “You just. I -” 

Almost experimentally, Catra lowers Finn as if to start breastfeeding. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Adora asks. Catra shrugs as Finn latches on and drinks greedily. 

Adora runs a hand through her hair, grunting in frustration. “But they _just_ \- y’know what, never mind.” 

Mia laughs.

* * *

There’s the year with the _Musical._

Catra knows, through hearing people chatter at court, that a musical rendition of the battle with Horde Prime exists somewhere, but she has no intention of going to see it and would _never_ consent to it being performed at the festival. 

Which is why Glimmer doesn’t tell her about it until it’s too late. 

Adora and Catra leave the castle grounds, beet red and close to gagging, as soon as they realize what’s happening. Catra voices the suggestion that maybe Mara’s ship is still working and they can go for a drive or something in space? Adora seriously considers it. Even years later, no one brings up the musical in Catra’s presence without risking an eye.

* * *

There’s the year Entrapta discovers the runestone shard in Lance and George’s library.

Catra doesn’t even know Bow’s dads _have_ a shard until Entrapta brings it to Bright Moon, monologuing about it to anyone who will listen. It would have been _Entrapta’s;_ it was _her family’s;_ just look at all the _data_ showing that this shard would have belonged to _her._ She doesn’t seem upset about its loss; rather, she bounces around with a mania that Catra hasn’t seen since the last time they were in space together. 

It’s not clear what - if anything - Entrapta can gain by potentially forging a connection with the shard. The only answer she gives to this question is “data, obviously.” Every time she says it, her tone gets louder, slower, and more condescending. 

She also has an Elemental obeying her every whim, now. Apparently it came with the shard? She’s named it Jared. Jared spends most of the day collecting tiny snacks and bringing them to her. Entrapta offers to let people ride on him, but no one takes her up on it. 

* * *

There’s the year Catra and Adora officially reunite with Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio.

It’s very awkward. The three of them have adopted Imp for some reason. Melog can apparently understand Rogelio? Finn asks a lot of uncomfortable questions. No one talks about keeping in touch.

* * *

There’s the year Scorpia and Perfuma’s children arrive as elemental Princesses and Princes for the first time.

This year is particularly memorable. And fun (for some). Finn talks about nothing else for _weeks_. 

* * *

There’s the year Glimmer’s water breaks the night before the festival. 

Adora and Catra miss the morning events, choosing instead to stay with Glimmer and Bow, fetching them water and running errands for the Healers and making sure Bow doesn’t pass out from anxiety and Glimmer doesn’t destroy anyone. Castaspella stays with Micah - who is all but catatonic for a while - while Mia takes Finn to the festival. The baby is born at midday and Catra and Adora leave her to be doted on in private by her exhausted parents and three overjoyed grandfathers.

* * *

There’s the year Finn produces their first play.

Double Trouble helps, obviously. It gets a pretty good audience, and it’s well-received. Scorpion children make up about half the cast. The plot is...confusing, and individual performances vary (Finn is the best actor, obviously). The production values are impressive, all things considered. Adora and Catra spend the whole time clutching each other and trying not to cry.

* * *

There’s the year Frosta names her successor. 

The official naming ceremony takes place in the Kingdom of Snows a few months before the festival. It's only a formality at this point; Frosta will stay on the throne for many years to come, but she’s smart to pick someone early. 

The successor’s name is Kori and they are surprisingly young, with broad, steady shoulders and a rare but sparkling grin. Catra meets them briefly after the ceremony and gets to know them a little better when they accompany Frosta to the Restoration Day festival a few months later.

Finn, as they usually do with new and interesting people, spends an unnerving amount of time watching them and imitating their mannerisms. All seven of Scorpia’s children rush to greet them at once and they are very nearly unfazed. 

Later, Catra and Finn team up to play Netball against Kori and Frosta, in a literal earth-shattering match that lasts for several hours.

* * *

There’s the year Catra and Adora celebrate their twentieth wedding anniversary. 

The Restoration Day festivals don’t usually focus too much on the Princesses - which is how Catra prefers it - but this is a big milestone and everyone wants to celebrate. Catra manages to find those weird flowers, among which they had taken that nap together all those years ago, and make a bouquet of them to give to Adora. She doesn’t know if Adora will recognize them, but her eyes fill with tears as soon as she sees them, and Catra pulls her into a long kiss.

* * *

There’s the year that Catra realizes Adora hasn’t turned into She-Ra for anything other than show for more than ten years. Is that the same year Adora discovers the patch of graying hair at her temples? It might be. It’s hard to parse them out sometimes.

* * *

There’s the year Princess Saz retires and Tao takes over the throne. Is that before or after Tao brings his firstborn child to the festival? Either way, both moments make Adora cringe, whispering, “We are so old,” in Catra’s ear.

* * *

There’s the year they all learn that even the hardest-won peace can’t last forever.

Catra sees it coming. She does everything she can to stave off an all-out war, but this generation of rulers and diplomats simply doesn't understand the horror of what they’re getting themselves into. There’s a sickening sort of inevitability to it. Bow and Glimmer’s daughter heads the new Princess Alliance as her parents look on with dread and despair.

One morning, Finn approaches Adora and Catra with an uncharacteristic diffidence. Fidgeting with their pointer fingers, they explain that they don’t want to go to war. They are not a soldier; they are not cut out for fighting. They don't want-

Catra and Adora cut them off with a tight embrace, both of them all but sobbing with relief.

The night before the Restoration Day festival, Adora has a nightmare more intense than any she’s had in decades. She’s been sleep-fighting again for a few weeks, but this fit is the worst yet.

“I can’t,” she sobs as Catra tries to shake her awake, “I can’t do it again. Please.”

It takes her a minute to come out of it, such that even Catra is crying by the time she wakes up fully. Adora sits up, panting and sweating. Strands of gray hair fall over her eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Her breathing slows, and she gazes into the distance with an eerie calm.

“I have to go to the woods,” she says. Catra takes her hand.

“Now?”

“Yes.”

They take a skiff. Catra steers at first, but Adora takes the helm when they reach the edge of the Whispering Woods. She seems to know where to go; Catra doesn’t ask how. After about an hour, they reach a clearing surrounded by thick bushes with long blue leaves and patches of tangled, thorny vines. 

Adora parks the skiff at the edge and steps off. Catra watches, silent, as she stretches out her hand and summons the sword. It looks like something from another life, a memory old and forgotten.

Catra almost doesn’t notice that Adora hasn’t turned into She-Ra. It’s strange, seeing her as herself, running her fingers over the blade, her eyes crinkled and brimming with tears. With a grunt that Catra hasn’t heard in a long time, Adora raises the sword above her head and plunges it into the ground. It flickers for a moment, before vanishing in a swirl of colorful light.

Adora doesn’t move for a long time. Eventually Catra approaches her, resting a hand on her shoulder. They gaze together into the empty patch of grass. In a way, it’s like grieving. 

Catra has so many memories of clearings just like this one, most of them faded and blended together, some of them vivid and sharp as knives. She remembers steering a different skiff on a different day, her eyes frantically searching the ground, terrified that Adora was injured or worse. She remembers them screaming at each other, pushing each other away and pulling themselves together even as the world crumpled around them. She remembers, later, their bodies crashing together against a tree, Catra forcing away bad memories in order to create new, better ones. There are a lot more of those sorts of memories, now.

She remembers an afternoon, many years ago today, when she and Adora walked hand-in-hand through a meadow of flowers unlike anything either of them had ever seen. Adora was tired; it was clear from her expression. She kept flinching and resting her hand on her chest. After the third time, Catra tugged her hand. They faced each other as Glimmer and Bow’s laughter faded into the distance ahead.

“You okay?” Catra asked. She kept it gentle, kind. _You don’t have to say yes. It’s just me._

“A little sore,” Adora admitted. Catra squeezed her hand. “She-Ra heals my injuries, but I can still feel them, a little bit.”

“Let’s take a break,” Catra kept her tone light, her smile easy as she sat down among the weird flowers and patted the space next to her. 

Adora looked at her, blushing. Catra remembers that moment vividly - the moment she realized _Adora was looking at her and blushing._ Her heart beat wildly in her chest, even as they curled up together, Catra’s tail lazily tracing up and down Adora’s leg. Catra purred and watched Adora’s eyes drift closed. Her even breathing lulled Catra to sleep fairly quickly.

There’s a weight off her now; Catra can see it as a near-visible change. Adora’s body is relaxed, something in her eyes is sparkling, and a small, peaceful smile is playing at the corner of her lips. Catra wraps her arm around Adora’s shoulders and presses their foreheads together. For almost a full minute, she lets the silence wrap around them like an embrace.

“Let’s go home,” Catra says.

END

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [postmodern_robot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/postmodern_robot/pseuds/postmodern_robot) and [caminante](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caminante/pseuds/caminante) for being fabulous betas.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Restoration Day [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26717524) by [caminante](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caminante/pseuds/caminante)




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